


Harry Potter and The Cape of Kozmo

by Wtchcool



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Cape
Genre: Angst and Humor, Assassins & Hitmen, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Daddy Issues, F/M, Family Drama, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Personalities, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Secret Identity, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 53,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wtchcool/pseuds/Wtchcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Non-Magic. What if Palm City was populated by Harry Potter characters? Harry Potter has been framed for the villain's crimes. Now it's time to suit up and fight back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Dragomir
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned “The Cape,” all of you would have heard of it somehow. If I owned “Harry Potter,” I probably wouldn’t have taken the bar exam.

Ginny Potter was making breakfast as her nine year old son, Albus, sat watching the morning news in the kitchenette. She handed him a bowl of oatmeal as her husband, Harry Potter, strolled in.  
  
  
    On the set, a story about the upcoming swearing-in of Kingsley Shaklebolt as the new Chief of Police of Palm City came on. Harry, as a sergeant in the Palm City Police Department, would be in charge of security at the ceremony. Ginny turned up the volume.  
  
  
    “ _The masked serial killer known as Chess has reportedly made threats on the incoming chief of police…”_ A grainy photograph of a man wearing a red mask that covered his head, and contacts that seemed to make his pupils look like slits, was flashed on the screen. Harry’s eyes narrowed. Chess had eluded the PCPD so far, but Harry knew they would find him and catch him. Cheered by that thought, he kissed his wife and son goodbye and headed off to work.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Cho Chang, a fellow officer, approached Harry in the precinct and had him follow her to her computer. She pulled up a blog entitled “Orwell is Watching,” the logo a giant eye inside a pyramid.   
  
  
    “Did you hear?” Cho asked. “Orwell just posted another list of corrupt cops.” She lowered her voice. “Crabbe and Goyle are on the list.” They both looked across the room, where the officers were standing. Harry suppressed a shiver. How many corrupt cops were there on the force?  
  
  
    “Why are you reading Orwell’s blog, anyway?” he asked Cho. “What do we know about this guy?”  
  
  
    “He’s the only independent news source in this city. Everything else is owned by ARK Corporation,” Cho pointed out. Harry didn’t know what to say to that.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Kingsley stood on the podium, giving his speech accepting the position as the new chief of police. Harry strode around, doing his best to make sure there were no flaws in their security.  
  
  
    “Crabbe!” He called out. “The north side’s looking a little thin. Go cover it.” Crabbe hastened to obey and Harry couldn’t help but wonder why Orwell thought the detective was corrupt.  
  
  
    Kingsley’s speech concluded, he left the podium and entered the limousine that was waiting for him.  
  
  
    “I hope that Chess character had a front-row seat,” Kingsley smiled. His blood ran cold as a silky voice answered him.  
  
  
    “Backstage pass.” The villain was dressed all in red. Chess held up an explosive called L-9. He activated it, left the vehicle and locked Kingsley inside before fleeing the scene.  
  
  
    Harry noticed something amiss when he saw Crabbe wasn’t at his station.  
  
  
    “Crabbe, what are you doing? You’re my eyes on the chief!”  
  
  
    “You called me off.”  
  
  
    “The hell I did,” Harry replied. He ran towards the chief’s vehicle. Peering through the tinted windows, he saw Kingsley trapped inside. “Chief!” Harry picked up a crowbar and tried to smash a window open or pry open a door, but it was no use. The L-9 was going off and… BOOM! The explosion rent the air. Harry was thrown back from the blast, unharmed, but the vehicle and its sole occupant had been destroyed.  
  
  
(INSERT THEME MUSIC)  
  
  
    Hours later, Harry was at home, attacking his punching bag, infuriated that he had been unable to save the chief, and Chess had gotten away. Al wandered in and Harry let his son take a few shots at the bag. Harry smiled and gave the boy a few pointers to help him strike better.  
  
  
    “I know you’ll get him, Dad,” Al said.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry’s best friend and former partner at the PCPD, Draco Malfoy, sat across the table from him, sliding him an ARK badge.  
  
  
    “I don’t know, Malfoy. Private security?”  
  
  
    “It’s time, Potter. Let’s face the reality: soon ARK Corporation will be taking over the police department. You need to get in on the ground floor. Besides, ARK could use men like you. Talk it over with Ginny. She’s the only one of you that has any sense,” the blonde quipped.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    As Malfoy suggested, Harry broached the topic with Ginny that evening, as she was getting ready for bed.  
  
  
    “I don’t know, Harry.”  
  
  
    “I thought you’d be pleased.”  
  
  
    “But private security?”  
  
  
    “I’d still be a cop and ARK has good benefits. I’d have time off.”  
  
  
    “Time off?” Ginny grinned as she joined Harry under the covers. “What’s that?” Harry grinned back as he kissed his wife.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry sat in the lobby of ARK Tower, waiting to be called in for his meeting with the corporation’s billionaire CEO, Severus Snape. As he waited, a promo for the company played on a large screen, advertising the humanitarian work ARK did in protecting their troops abroad…  
  
  
    Finally, Malfoy took Harry up to see Snape. The billionaire cut an impressive figure in his black suit with matching black tie and black shirt. Okay, he was wearing a lot of black, but Harry supposed that went with his black eyes and black hair.   
  
  
    “Sergeant Potter,” Snape greeted. “I understand you’re originally from Palm City?”  
  
  
    “Yes, sir, I am. My father, James Potter, was a sheriff here before he died.” Snape heard Potter’s unspoken words: he had joined the PCPD to continue in his father’s footsteps. The older man frowned.  
  
  
    “Then you must hate this, the fact that a private security firm is doing the work of the police department.”  
  
  
    “I just want to be a cop,” Harry insisted. Snape smiled.  
  
  
    “Good answer. Now, Potter, I’m sure you know there’s been abundant corruption in the ranks of the police department. Have you kept your nose clean?”  
  
  
    “I never take bribes, sir,” Harry spat back. The very idea was offensive. Snape noticed the younger man’s reaction.  
  
  
    “Forgive me. That was rude. We need men like you at ARK, Potter. Welcome aboard. Can you start on Monday?” Harry smiled.  
  
  
    “Yes, sir.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Ginny looked into her child’s bedroom and saw Albus reading to Harry from one of his textbooks.  
  
  
    “He needs to finish his homework,” the redhead called out.  
  
  
    “We’re working on it,” Harry replied, smiling. He waited a beat for his wife to walk away, then gave an all-clear signal to Al. Dumping the textbook to the side, Al handed his father his favorite comic book, “The Cape.” Harry grinned. It was his favorite comic book, too. He began to read the latest issue aloud, making sure to do voices for the characters.  
  
  
    “‘Let’s see if the Cape burns,’ the Arsonist said. Beneath the city…”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    In the middle of the night, Harry got out of bed to try to finish up some work on his computer. Ginny stirred, but he told her to go back to sleep.  
  
  
    He was in front of his computer monitor when the screen flashed and the logo from Orwell’s blog filled the monitor. A mechanically distorted voice, presumably belonging to the blogger, issued from the speakers.  
  
  
    “Sorry to hear you’re going to work for ARK, Potter. Guess you bought into the hype that ARK is making the world safer. Well…” A picture of an explosive filled the screen. “This is L-9,” Orwell continued. “Officially, it doesn’t exist, but we know better, don’t we, Potter? This is what L-9 did to the chief’s limo.” A picture of Kingsley’s wrecked vehicle filled the screen, before switching to the image of a smiling blonde man in a violet suit. “This is Gilderoy Lockhart. He runs the biggest smuggling operation on the West coast. My sources say that he’s struck a deal with Snape. Go to the train yards tonight, Potter, and see what ARK is really up to…”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Malfoy showed up at the train yards. Where was Potter? His partner had called him here. Ah. There he was up ahead, shining a flashlight at him.  
  
  
    “Malfoy, did you come alone?”  
  
  
    “Yes. What’s this about?” Harry took a box off the freight train nearest them and opened it up. “Potter, you can’t open that! That’s illegal!”  
  
  
    “You want to see illegal, how about this?” Harry asked. He pulled a doll out of the box.  
  
  
    “Pammy Pees?” Malfoy asked, arching a blond eyebrow. Harry pulled the head off the doll and pulled out a container of L-9.  
  
  
    “I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking recall,” Harry said. “What’s this stuff doing on an ARK train?”  
  
  
    “I don’t know, Potter, but ARK is a large corporation. There are a lot of moving parts. Just come with me and we’ll get this all sorted out in the-- NO! I’VE GOT THIS!” Malfoy shouted as an ARK guard hit Harry from behind, knocking the sergeant unconscious.   
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Shortly before dawn, Harry woke up inside a car of one of the freight trains. He was tied to a chair, a chess board before him, the pieces arranged as if two people had been playing but were interrupted. Malfoy stood facing him, a somber expression on his face.  
  
  
    “Malfoy, what have you done?” Harry asked. Someone’s voice came from the shadows behind Malfoy.  
  
  
    “Do you play chess, Potter? I ask because you are at a critical point in the game. You can win, but you’d have to sacrifice your queen. You’ve left your family in a vulnerable position, coming here, Harry. I know all about your wife, your son.” Chess stepped out of the shadows. “My life is like a game of chess.” The villain reached for his mask to take it off.  
  
  
    “NO!” Harry cried, instinctively knowing that once he’d caught sight of the killer’s face, the madman would never let him out of there alive. Not heeding the man’s cry, Chess removed his mask…and revealed Severus Snape’s face. The hooked nose, thin lips and black hair was the same. The only difference was that Snape’s black eyes were concealed by those light blue contacts that appeared to distort his pupils. (Seriously, what was up with those contacts? Harry wore contacts, sure, but that was because he was blind as a bat without them, not to conceal his green eyes.)  
  
  
    Harry’s mouth fell open in shock. It couldn’t be. Chess couldn’t be Snape! He’d met Snape; he was going to work for Snape.  
  
  
    “Chess must pay for his crimes,” the villain continued in that silky voice of his, and oh god, there really was no denying that he was Snape. It was Snape’s voice. He didn’t know how he hadn’t recognized it at once.  
  
  
    “ARK will make him pay and then I will be a hero.” Snape handed his mask to a uniformed ARK guard, who took it and stapled it onto Harry’s head. Even as Harry screamed out in pain, another guard was undoing his restraints.  
  
  
    “You have one move left,” Snape purred. “Run.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    And Harry ran as the ARK troops chased after him, some by foot, and others in choppers overhead. He’d tried to pull Chess’ mask off, but the damn thing was stuck. All he succeeded in doing was tearing a hole across the bottom, enough to reveal his face, but unfortunately also damning him as Chess. He couldn’t believe this! He was being framed for Chess’ crimes!  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Al was already watching the morning news when Ginny came in to make breakfast.  
  
  
    “Mom, where’s Dad?”  
  
  
    “He must’ve gone into work early,” Ginny said, unconcerned.  
  
  
    “Hey, I think they found Chess!” Al said, excited. His mood changed a moment later. “Why did they say that?”  
  
  
    “Say what?” Ginny asked, not having caught what the reporter had said.  
  
  
    “They said Dad’s Chess.”  
  
  
    “What?” Ginny’s eyes widened. “You must not have heard him right,” she grabbed the remote.  
  
  
    “They said he was Chess,” Al repeated. “Why would they say that?”  
  
  
    “There has to be a mistake,” Ginny said, even as she saw them flash a split screen, her husband’s picture on one side, Chess’ on the other. The split screen gone, the channel returned to live coverage of ARK security teams chasing down… Oh god! That was Harry!   
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry ran and ran. It was a good thing he was such a fast runner. He ducked underneath a train. He knew these train yards. As he’d told Snape, he’d grown up in this city, and knew it inside and out. Pulling open a manhole cover, Harry dropped down into the tunnel beneath the train, and not a moment too soon. A moment later, ARK forces opened fire and the train exploded. The blast from the inferno was larger than the one that had killed the chief and although it didn’t harm Harry, it knocked him unconscious. He was completely unaware of someone coming to drag him from the scene to a tent in Trolley Park.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “NO!” Ginny clutched Al to her, protectively, as they both wept. The news choppers had captured the explosion. Harry was dead.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Reporters surrounded Severus Snape, hurling questions at him. Finally, he held up a hand.  
  
  
    “Look, the city is safer now that Chess is dead, thanks to ARK Corporation. I’ve spoken to Mayor Fudge, and he has confirmed that ARK will be taking over the city’s security, effectively immediately. Palm City now has the first fully-privatized police force in the nation.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody sipped from his flask. Their prisoner hadn’t woken up yet.  
  
  
    “Ron, wake him up!” Moody barked. Ron walked up to the man tied to a chair in the center of the tent, and punched him in the face. The man’s head snapped back, but he was still drowsy. Ron pulled back his fist to punch him a second time, but the man called out.  
  
  
    “Alright, I’m awake! What’s going on?”  
  
  
    “You’re our prisoner, Chess,” Moody barked.   
  
  
    “What? I’m not Chess.”  
  
  
    “Excuse me; do I look like I have egg on my face?” Moody asked. “Why would I think you’re Chess?” The man looked pointedly at what was left of Chess’ mask on Potter’s head.  
  
  
    “I’m not Chess. I’m a cop!” Harry shouted.  
  
  
    “Wrong answer! We’re criminals. We _hate_ cops.” Moody hissed. He threw his flask against the wall.  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye, your blood pressure!” Tonks called to him. Moody frowned and waved away her concern before turning back to Potter.  
  
  
    “Now, as Chess, you were interesting. But I’ve no use for cops and I’m getting thirsty.” He already regretted throwing down his flask. His whiskey was spilling all over the floor. Someone handed him a glass of whiskey before he could get really upset. “Ron, take him out to the desert and cut his fingers off! Head, too, I suppose.”  
  
  
    “But Mad-Eye, he’s cute!” Tonks protested. Mad-Eye ignored her.  
  
  
    “Wait, wait!” Harry shouted. “I may not be Chess, but I have an ARK key card in my shirt pocket.”  
  
  
    “Ron, check his pocket!” Moody barked. Ron went to do so.  
  
  
    “My shirt pocket, Carrot Top,” Harry snapped at the redhead. Finding the key card, Ron brought it to Moody.  
  
  
    “Now, you probably know as well as I do that the Palm City banks all use ARK security, so that card will access their vaults. So you tell me, how much is my life worth?” Harry asked the head of the thieves. Moody smiled and gestured for Ron to untie him.  
  
  
    “Welcome to the Carnival of Crime,” Moody said, before introducing Harry to the gang. The Carnival of Crime was a band of thieves that, on the side, also had a legitimate show business. Moody was the master of ceremonies and resident escape artist. Nymphadora Tonks was the aerialist. Harry was also introduced to Sirius Black and Ron Weasley, the redhead who had given him such a warm reception, though he wasn’t quite sure what their acts in the carnival were.  
  
  
    Using the card Harry had given them, the Carnival pulled off one heist after another, each time wearing different get ups. One time they were dressed as clowns. Another time, they sent in trained circus animals to pick up the cash.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    In Malfoy’s office in ARK Tower, Malfoy showed Severus the footage from the bank robberies.  
  
  
    “This is from the branch on Main Street,” Malfoy said as footage of a raccoon hauling a sack full of money came on the screen.  
  
  
    “Do we think that the raccoon acted alone?” Snape drawled, his face expressionless.  
  
  
    “Probably not, sir,” Malfoy replied. Snape picked up the photograph Malfoy kept on his desk of his wife, Astoria, and his son, Scorpius.  
  
  
    “You have a lovely family,” Snape commented. Malfoy was thrown off balance.  
  
  
    “Thank you, sir.”  
  
  
    “Find the person behind these robberies and bring him to me!” Snape snapped.  
  
  
    “Yes, sir.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry hid behind a tree and watched as a funeral service was held in his name. His wife was dressed all in black, as were the other mourners and there was Malfoy, coming up to comfort Ginny after she’d tossed a wreath into the sea. That SOB had a lot of nerve. It was his fault that everyone thought he was dead. Oh how Harry wanted to run out there and dry Ginny’s tears himself. He just couldn’t.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Later, Harry picked up a phone at the Carnival and dialed his old phone number. Ginny picked up.  
  
  
    “Hello?” she answered. “Hello?” Harry didn’t say anything, and after a few more moments Ginny hung up the phone, disgusted with prank callers. Harry hung up the receiver and Mad-Eye called out to him.  
  
  
    “Go ahead. Tell her you’re okay. But the moment Chess realizes you’re still alive, he’ll go after your family.”  
  
  
    “One man just took everything from me!” Harry screamed. “What am I supposed to do?”  
  
  
    “Leave Snape to me. You can’t take ARK on by yourself; it’s bigger than just one man. You want to get to Snape, you get to his money. You let me steal from him.”  
  
  
    “You’ve been stealing from him!” Harry pointed out, eyeing some of the cash the Carnival had hauled in, thanks to his help. Harry sighed. This was getting him nowhere. He went off to hit a few rounds with the punching bag the Carnival let him use.  
  
  
    After he’d finished venting his hostilities, something in an adjoining room caught his eye. Stepping through a curtain, he saw hanging from a statue a dark blue cape. Intrigued, Harry picked it up. Flashes from “The Cape” comics went through his mind and Harry swung the cape around, as he imagined the comic book hero would. He swirled it over his shoulders and posed in a fighting stance. An idea came to him and he ran to get Moody.  
  
  
    Moody picked up the cape.  
  
  
    “I haven’t seen this old thing in years,” the magician said. Harry wasn’t sure he believed this, but let the old man continue. “It was designed for the Russian escape artist, Kozmo the Unkillable. It’s made entirely of spider silk. Tougher than Kevlar, but thinner than filament. It’s got all sorts of features, like a weighted hem.” Moody demonstrated how the cape could be contracted into a thin tube before shaking it out again.  
  
  
    Harry began explaining to Moody his idea. He wanted to use the cape to become the embodiment of the comic book hero. As the Cape, he would be able to take on Severus Snape and fight for Palm City. He would be able to find a way to clear his name so that he could go home again. And in the meantime, he would have a means of sending a message to his son--  
  
  
    “That one man can make a difference,” Harry finished. “Can it be done?” Moody looked at him.  
  
  
    “I’ve broken ninety-two bones in the pursuit of the perfect illusion,” Moody growled. “It can be done alright, but you’ll need to train intensively. You give me your soul, Harry Potter, and I’ll make you the best circus act this city has ever seen!” He threw down a smoke pellet and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Harry grinned.  
  
  
    “When can we start?”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry’s training began.   
  
  
    “There are thirty-two escape illusions that can be done with a cape,” Moody told Potter. “You will learn to master all of them.” Moody taught Harry the escape tricks and had him practice using the cape to snatch and hurl objects.  
  
  
    “British Bartitsu, Kodokan Judo… The warrior dancers of the Tang Dynasty used their robes as weapons, and so will you…” Moody intoned, as Harry tried to use the cape to grab a glass, and wound up accidentally knocking it over, breaking it. “One day,” Moody added.  
  
  
    Ron worked on Harry’s hand to hand combat skills as they practiced in the ring.  
  
  
    “Let’s see how tough you are when I’m not tied to a chair,” Harry taunted.  
  
  
    Sirius, it turned out, was a hypnotist, and he took on the responsibility of teaching Harry how to use hypnosis. He had Harry watch as he moved two of his fingers.  
  
  
    “The trick,” Sirius said, “is not to let the sucker know that he’s being hypnotized. So you talk about something else--the weather. Oh, my wife, she’s been giving me a hard time…” Harry’s eyelids were drooping, and finally Sirius smacked his hand down on the table between them, bringing Harry to with a jolt.  
  
  
    “What just happened?” Harry asked.  
  
  
    “I hypnotized you, sucker.”  
  
  
    “Yeah, right,” Harry scoffed.  
  
  
    “Then why are you wearing the girly panties?” Sirius smirked. Harry’s eyes narrowed. He reached down his pants, and was startled to find that he was, sure enough, wearing frilly pink panties. He stood up, fuming.  
  
  
    “That is not cool, Sirius! That is really not cool!”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP   
  
  
    Harry was finally showing progress. He had, as Moody had promised, mastered all of the escape tricks.  
  
  
    He had also discovered how to hypnotize Sirius. He moved two of his fingers in front of Sirius’ eyes, just as he’d been shown. Smacking his hand on the table, he brought Black out of the trance.  
  
  
    “I did it,” Harry said.  
  
  
    “You wish,” Sirius scoffed. Harry gestured for Sirius to unbutton his vest. Black did so, and was shocked to find that he was wearing a purplish bra.   
  
  
    “You give me a hundred bucks and I won’t tell the crew,” Harry said. Sirius laughed and Harry chuckled. Then, without warning, Sirius smacked him.  
  
  
    “Don’t get cocky.”  
  
  
    Finally, Harry had reached the point where he could use the cape to grasp a knife and hurl it at a target with precision accuracy. Moody looked on in approval.  
  
  
    “I think you’re ready.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Two goons were on the docks one evening. They were a part of Gilderoy “Goldilocks” Lockhart’s smuggling operation, but one of them had never seen Goldilocks before. He wasn’t sure what to expect when the man arrived later.  
  
  
    “Is it true that…?”  
  
  
    “Yeah, he’s got a freakishly white smile and his face looks like he belongs doing modeling. Just don’t stare at his dimples,” the other goon warned. Just then, Goldilocks himself showed up on the pier, wearing his trademark violet suit and flashing his blindingly white teeth.  
  
  
    “Let me see that, gentlemen,” he said, reaching for one of the dolls. He ripped the head off and pulled out a container of L-9. “Excellent,” he smiled.  
  
  
    There was a noise from one of the other smugglers a few yards away. Goldilocks gestured for one of the two goons to go check it out. He did, and a cape flung out of the darkness to yank him off his feet. Gilderoy approached to investigate what was going on. A vigilante came out of the shadows. The man was wearing tights, and a hood attached to his long cape hid his face. Gilderoy was seriously confused, but not off-put by the man’s appearance. He engaged the idiot in hand-to-hand combat. The hooded stranger fought back valiantly, but Gilderoy (known for his fighting skills as much as his unnatural looks) quickly got the upper hand. Grabbing chains, he quickly bound the would-be hero, and dragged him to the edge of the pier.  
  
  
    “This is going to be a bit cold,” Gilderoy informed the man, rather politely, he thought. Then he chucked the fool into the freezing water below before walking off.  
  
  
    Harry sank to the bottom, holding his breath. Memories flooded him. Mad-Eye’s voice came back to him.  
  
  
    “The escape artist overcomes his fear… trusts his training…”  
  
  
    Remembering what Mad-Eye had taught him, Harry broke free of the chains and swam to the surface, where he gasped for breath. Not quite what he had hoped for as his first night as the Cape, but he supposed it could have been worse…   
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Malfoy called his boss.  
  
  
    “Mr. Snape? It’s Malfoy. We’ve tracked down the bank robbers. The leader’s name is Mad-Eye Moody. We’ve got him. Mr. Snape? Did you hear me?”  
  
  
    Chess stood gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling windows in Snape’s penthouse. He was wearing a black suit and tie, but Snape’s black eyes were obscured by the blue contact lenses that made him seem inhuman.  
  
  
    “Yes,” Chess replied at last. “That’s wonderful news.” The villain grinned.   
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    As the Cape, Harry snuck into the warehouse on the docks where Goldilocks was holding the explosives, preparing them to be loaded onto a waiting ship. Peering across the room, he noticed that he wasn’t the only hooded figure there. Dressed all in black was a photographer, taking pictures of the criminals’ activity and hiding his/her face. The photographer suddenly spotted Harry and started running. Harry’s instincts as a cop taking over, he began chasing the masked person. The person was fast, perhaps as fast as Harry, but Harry used the cape to trip the runner. A stack of flyers with Orwell’s logo fell to the floor just as the photographer’s mask fell off, revealing a brunette woman who couldn’t be any older than he was. She brought out her taser and fired at Harry. The shot bounced harmlessly off his armor and he pulled her against him.  
  
  
    “Wait, you’re Orwell?” Harry asked in disbelief. Everyone had always assumed the blogger was a man. Well, it was a masculine sounding name… and she looked like a kid. “What are you, twelve?”  
  
  
    “This coming from a man wearing tights and a cape?” Hermione shot back.  
  
  
    “Fair point,” Harry said, releasing the hold he had had on her. Too curious for his own good, Harry followed Orwell outside to her Porsche and got in the passenger seat when she told him to. When they arrived at her place, Harry followed her inside as she went up to her computer and started tapping buttons.  
  
  
    “So Snape sent you,” Orwell assumed.  
  
  
    “What? No, he didn’t. I don’t work for Snape.”  
  
  
    “Yeah, right.” Orwell didn’t believe that for a second.   
  
  
    “What are you doing?” he asked.  
  
  
    “You pressed your finger against my taser earlier. I’m scanning the system for a match on your prints. Let’s see who you are.”  
  
  
    “NO, STOP!” Harry shouted, trying to drag her away from the computer, but it was too late. A photograph of him in his policeman’s uniform had popped up.  
  
  
    “Harry Potter?” Orwell questioned. Harry threw back his hood, revealing his face.  
  
  
    “I’m the Cape. Harry Potter is dead, thanks to you! If Snape had any idea that I was alive--”  
  
  
    “So…this is real? You’re really fighting back?” Her face broke into a grin. “This is wonderful, Harry!”  
  
  
    “I’m the Cape,” he repeated.  
  
  
    “Cape, fine, whatever.”  
  
  
    Harry’s cell phone rang.  
  
  
    “Harry?” Ron’s voice came out of the phone. “They’ve got Mad-Eye. You’ve got to save him!”  
  
  
    “I’m on my way,” Harry promised, after Ron had told him where Mad-Eye was being held. Orwell handed her new partner a headset for him to slip on his ear.  
  
  
    “I’ll be your eyes and ears,” she promised.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Mad-Eye was tied to a chair on a ship at the docks (one that was full of the L-9 Goldilocks had smuggled in for Chess). He was bleeding from a cut on his face; his captors had been beating him. Lockhart strolled into the room, his white teeth flashing, his dimples showing prominently.  
  
  
    “Whoa, look at you!” Mad-Eye exclaimed. “You know, we could use you in our show. What do you say? Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.”  
  
  
    “Not interested,” Lockhart replied, still smiling. It was nice to know that he was in such high demand, but then, with his gorgeous looks, why wouldn’t he be?  
  
  
    Chess, having donned his costume and a mask identical to the one he’d had stapled to poor Potter’s head, nodded his approval at Mad-Eye’s capture. Then he strode from the room, walking with Malfoy.   
  
  
    “I’m going to set off the L-9 shortly.” Malfoy’s eyes widened.  
  
  
    “All of it? But, sir, that much L-9 will decimate half the city!”  
  
  
    “And the survivors will turn to ARK for protection,” Chess smirked. “Have the submarine brought around. I don’t think you’ll want to be aboard the ship when the explosives go off.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The thugs watching Mad-Eye had been ordered to kill him.  
  
  
    “Any last words?” one of them asked. Mad-Eye had spotted Potter lurking in the shadows.  
  
  
    “Abracadabra.”  
 **  
Author’s Note: Ta-da: “The Cape” if the “Harry Potter” characters starred in it.  
  
Fellow Snape fans, please don’t kill me for making him the villain. I know he’s a good guy in “Harry Potter.” It’s just that when I watch “The Cape,” I look for hints of Chess/Cape… Okay, moving on…  
  
So, in case you haven’t sorted it out by now: the events in this fic take place in 2011. Harry and Ron and Ginny are the ages they would be given their birthdays in the early 1980s. Hermione, however… let’s say she’s a few years younger.  
  
Here, Harry and Ginny had one child (Albus) instead of three. He wasn’t named after Snape, though, since his parents had never met the man.  
**


	2. Part Two: The Cape v. Chess

Emerging from the shadows, Harry flung the cape to disarm the guards and threw down a smoke pellet as he helped Mad-Eye escape their clutches. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been fast enough. In the confusion, one of the captor’s guns had gone off and Mad-Eye was wounded. Harry lay Mad-Eye gently on the floor of the ship, lowered his hood, and crouched beside him as the man bled.  
  
  
    “Well, I guess this is it,” Mad-Eye said, as he looked up into Potter’s face.  
  
  
    “Don’t talk like that,” Harry replied.  
  
  
    “Hey, I’m the one dying here; I’ll talk however I want.   
  
  
    “Potter, what you said, about showing your son that one man can make a difference, that meant something to me. Take it from a man who never knew his father, and never had a son, that bond of yours is special.  
  
  
    “I wish I had something profound to say, last words and all, but, man, I could really use a drink,” Mad-Eye chuckled, before he closed his eyes and fell silent.  
  
  
    Harry kneeled there, his head bowed. In a short time, Mad-Eye had become a trusted mentor and friend to him. He hated to lose Mad-Eye so suddenly, to think of never hearing another word of advice from him…  
  
  
    Moody cracked open first one eye and then the other, looking at Potter, who stared back at him in shock.  
  
  
    “Damn, I thought that was it.  And I wasted a good speech,” Moody groused, before Potter helped him to his feet.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Lockhart had left the room where the prisoner was about to be killed, and was walking along a corridor when he came face to face with Ron. He looked at the young man’s complexion and sighed.  
  
  
    “Why, hello. You know, I could recommend some good skin care products that would take care of those freckles…” Ron glared at him and swung the crowbar he was carrying at Lockhart’s head. Goldilocks collapsed to the floor, unconscious.  
  
  
    “I could recommend a good pain reliever,” he said, as he stepped over the body.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry told Ron to escort Mad-Eye from the ship. Then he pulled his hood back up and begun chasing after Snape. Chess had the detonator for the L-9; it was a cell phone and all he’d have to do was push a button…  
  
  
    Harry engaged his headset and spoke to Orwell as he reached the top deck.  
  
  
    “Orwell, I need you to block all cell phone activity within a five-mile radius of here.”  
  
  
    “Got it,” Hermione replied, as she started tapping buttons.  
  
  
    Finally, Harry caught up to Snape. Much like Goldilocks, while Chess was surprised by the appearance of a vigilante dressed up as a comic-book superhero, he wasn’t overly concerned as they began hand-to-hand combat. There was no way this idiot in a cape was going to foil his plans at this point.  
  
  
    Gaining the upper hand, Chess held Potter over the side of the ship by his cape.  
  
  
    “I will find out who you are, I will find out who you love, and I will make them scream,” the villain hissed. Okay, this guy was getting on Harry’s nerves big time. What was it with him and always threatening Harry’s family?  
  
  
    Harry swung his legs up and landed back on top of the ship. (Miraculously, his hood still covered his face.) Thrown off balance, Chess stumbled backwards, but quickly regained his equilibrium. Enough playing around. He pressed the button on the cell phone to detonate the L-9...and nothing happened. Shocked, he pressed it again, to no avail. Harry smirked.  
  
  
    “No bars?”  
  
  
    Chess glared at him. (Harry wasn’t sure whether the glare would have looked more intimidating without the contact lenses obscuring his obsidian eyes.) So it was this hero-wannabe that had jammed his signal. The Cape started swinging at Chess, but the villain fled the ship onto his waiting submarine and got away.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “You did great, Harry,” Orwell’s voice came over Harry’s headset as he stood atop a roof later that evening. Throwing caution to the wind, he left his face unconcealed by his hood.  
  
  
    “You did too,” Harry replied, smiling. “Now you’re the mystery. So, who are you, Orwell?”  
  
  
    Hermione closed the screen she’d been looking at and stared into space, her smile gone.  
  
  
    “I’m no one special,” she said at last.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Sometime after losing Harry, Ginny and Al had moved out of their house and into an apartment building closer to the city’s downtown area.  
  
  
    Tonight, Al wandered onto the fire escape and up towards the roof of the building. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There before him, crouching in the shadows with his hood hiding his face was his comic book superhero, the Cape!  
  
  
    “Are you Albus Potter?” the Cape rasped. Al nodded. Holy crap! The Cape was not only real, but he knew his name?!  
  
  
    “You read my comic?” Another nod.  
  
  
    “I knew your father. He was a good man and he didn’t do what they say he did. But I know the guilty and I will see that they are brought to justice.”  
  
  
    “You knew Dad?” Al found his voice.  
  
  
    “Yes and I have a message from him. He says:  He loves you very much. Don’t give up hope, _never_ give up hope. Be good to your mother…and work on your math, you need to work on your math,” Harry added.  
  
  
    Al nodded, though he would have preferred it if his dad hadn’t mentioned math in his message.  
  
  
    “And,” Harry continued, tears slipping from his eyes, which fortunately his son could not see, “and someday you’ll see him again.”  
  
  
    The message from his father evidently over, the Cape rose to his full height, the spider silk fabric flowing down to his feet. Al stared as the Cape threw down a pellet and disappeared in a puff of smoke. He smiled.  
  
  
    That was so cool!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus concludes the “Harry Potter” version of The Cape’s pilot episode.
> 
> Thanks to Dragomir for continuing to provide beta-ing services.
> 
> Now, tell me people: how many of you are enjoying this fic? It was meant to provide “Harry Potter” fans with an insight into “The Cape.” I could continue with the next episode, but I don’t want to feel as though Dragomir and I are wasting our time…


	3. Tarot Part One: Glass Houses

Harry was in a convenience store, minding his own business, when two young hoodlums came in to hold it up. They were armed to the teeth. One held his rifle on the store owner as the other pointed his in Harry’s face.  
  
  
    “Don’t try to be a hero! Get down on the ground!” the punk ordered Harry (the only customer in the store at the time). Harry, who was wearing a baseball cap underneath a hood in an attempt to remain inconspicuous, glanced at the newspaper that was mere feet from the thief’s face. Harry’s face stared back at him from the front page, underneath a headline that claimed he was Chess.   
  
  
He lowered himself down to the floor, glad that he hadn’t been recognized and pissed that Snape owned the media. For heaven’s sake, not only was the article wrong, but even if he was Chess, that should’ve been old news. No reason to keep splashing his face everywhere and continually drag his name through the mud…   
  
  
    As the gunman focused his attention on ordering the store owner to give him the money from the cash register, Harry slipped the cape out from underneath his hoodie and changed into his alter ego. He used his signature weapon to hurl one of the robbers into a display case. The other turned around to look for Harry, but didn’t see him.   
  
  
    “What did I tell you?” he called out. “I said ‘don’t try to be a hero!’ You don’t want to get shot!” He rounded the corner of an aisle and came face to face with the Cape. Harry took him down quickly, and then approached the counter to pay for his merchandise.  
  
  
    “Take it! It’s on me!” the grateful storeowner insisted when Harry tried to pay. Harry thought about declining the man’s offer, but then, he probably ought to conserve his money now. He couldn’t exactly go looking for a new job if he was supposed to be dead…  
  
  
    “Thanks,” Harry said, as he turned to leave the store.  
  
  
    “Wait! You’re a superhero, right? What do they call you?” Harry turned back to the proprietor.  
  
  
    “I’m the Cape.”  
  
  
    “The Cape?” _What kind of a lame handle was that?_ “Well, you’ll work on it.”  
  
  
INSERT THEME MUSIC  
  
  
    Rita Skeeter, reporter for Channel 6, was breaking the latest story.  
  
  
    “Secretary of Prisons Neville Longbottom remains the lone holdout on the city council as he continues to oppose Severus Snape’s bid to privatize Palm City’s correctional facilities. Longbottom joked that he will be doubling his own security until the vote two days from now…”  
  
  
    As the TV droned on in the background, Fenrir Greyback picked up a needle and filled it with the mixture he had just concocted. Never mind joking, Longbottom would have been wise to actually increase his security, but then that would have done him little good. The needle full, Fenrir plunged it into a bird sitting in its cage. The bird squawked once before succumbing to the poison.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP   
  
  
    Ginny shut off the news as the reporter started talking about her husband as a psychopath. As if he had any idea who her husband was. She got off the couch. It was Al’s curfew; better make sure he was in bed. She frowned. He wasn’t in his room and the window that led out to the fire escape was wide open. Great; he was on the roof _again_ , as he had been every night since he’d decided his comic book superhero had paid him a visit. He was going to turn ten soon—wasn’t that too old for imaginary friends?  
  
  
    She climbed up to the roof. Sure enough, there was her son, equipped with pillow and comic book.  
  
  
    “He’ll be here,” Al insisted.  
  
  
    “Honey, I know you want him to be real,” Ginny began.  
  
  
    “He _is_ real,” Al replied. Why did his mom have to think he was crazy?  
  
  
    Ginny sighed. This wasn’t the time to argue about the division between reality and fantasy.  
  
  
    “Well, I’m the mother and I say it’s time for bed,” she ordered in her best no-nonsense voice. Al stood up reluctantly and faced her. The expression on his face broke her heart, especially as a tear fell down his cheek. Poor Al. He was so devastated by Harry’s death. Was it any wonder he’d imagined his hero coming to tell him that his father wasn’t the monster the world claimed he was?   
  
  
    Al turned and climbed back down to the apartment.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    That night, Snape was lying in bed in his penthouse when an intruder tripped the alarm. Harry, dressed as the Cape, went to Snape’s computer and started rummaging through the files. Apparently, Snape had recently been looking at data on Neville Longbottom and Fenrir Greyback… He stood up from the computer as he heard footsteps approach.  
  
  
    “Who’s there?” Snape called out. He was wearing his robe. A cape swung around his neck and the vigilante holding it approached him from out of the shadows.  
  
  
    “Hello Severus. Did you miss me?”  
  
  
    “Look, just take whatever money you want and go--”  
  
  
    “I’m not here for money, Chess.”  
  
  
    “I’m just a businessman,” Snape replied.  
  
  
    “You’re a psychopath,” Harry spat back. His hood still concealed his face.  
  
  
    “You know people who live in glass houses--” Severus drawled despite Harry’s attempt to cut off his circulation.  
  
  
    “Get thrown out windows,” Harry finished. Suddenly, a knife sliced through his armor and pierced his skin. He released Snape as he pulled out the blade. Snape looked at the Cape in disappointment.  
  
  
    “Did you really think I’d let you get this close to me if I didn’t want you to?” _What a dunderhead._ “Fenrir, tell him what he’s having this evening.” Fenrir stepped out of the shadows and began explaining to Harry the properties of the poison the knife was tipped with.  
  
  
    “…and that should collapse the lungs,” the maniac finished.  
  
  
    “Sounds delightful,” Chess commented and yet… for once, he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the suffering of his foe. He turned to the Cape.  
  
  
    “I thought you were going to be fun.” How could they have fun if the Cape was dead? Games were supposed to last, not be cut short prematurely.   
  
  
    Oh well. Still, he’d better tell Fenrir to finish his opponent off now… Too late. The Cape dove out one of the penthouse’s windows to avoid getting hit with another knife. He landed on top of a parked car and then rolled off it onto the street. Miraculously, none of his bones were broken in the fall.   
  
  
Hermione hit the brakes on her car just feet from where he lay, got out, and helped Harry to his feet.  
  
  
    “What the hell were you thinking?” she screamed as she got him into her Porsche. Harry decided to change the topic.  
  
  
    “Nice ride,” he said as she locked the doors. Before Orwell could drive away, Fenrir’s arm smashed through a window, giving her a good look at the tattoo on his left forearm… That was interesting.  
  
  
    Without stopping to wonder how Fenrir had left the penthouse so quickly without also jumping out of a window, Hermione floored the gas pedal.  
  
  
    “Poison… the knife was poisoned,” Harry told her. Right, better get him to an emergency room…  
  
  
    “Where are you going?” Harry asked.  
  
  
    “A hospital,” Orwell replied.  
  
  
    “NO! NO hospital! They’d recognize me!” Harry shouted. For all of Orwell’s brains, you’d think she’d know that as soon as the first doctor compared his face to the one in today’s newspaper, he’d be worse than dead.  
  
  
    “Then where am I supposed to take you?” Orwell demanded.  
  
  
    “Trolley Park. Listen, Snape’s targeting Neville Longbottom.”  
  
  
    “The Secretary of Prisons?” Of course. He wanted the prisons to be under his control. “He’s already privatized the police force. If he takes control of the prisons, he’ll have his police state. Harry? Are you listening to me?”  
  
  
    “Off and on. I am dying here,” Harry groaned as Orwell drove into Trolley Park. She opened the door and heaved Harry out of the car and onto the ground.  
  
  
    “I’m sorry, Harry. I have to leave you here,” she said, and she hopped back in her car as Ron and Tonks reached Harry. Ron stared at the retreating vehicle, but Tonks brought him back to the present and together they heaved Harry’s body inside the tent and before Moody.  
  
  
    “Harry,” Ron said, as he bent over his friend’s body, “Where did you meet the hottie? Was it an online thing?” The words barely penetrated Harry’s consciousness.  
  
  
    Mad-Eye took out a jar of leeches and handed it to Ron, telling him to apply them to Harry’s neck. Ron looked at the jar and then back at Mad-Eye.  
  
  
    “Are you mental?”  
  
  
    “Give them here,” Tonks said, before taking the jar from Ron’s hands and beginning to apply them according to Mad-Eye’s instructions, along the carotid artery and Harry’s jugular. The little things started to leech the poison from Harry’s bloodstream, but Mad-Eye decided to give them a little help and pulled out a needle.  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye, what is that?” Tonks asked.  
  
  
    “Nightshade,” he grunted before stabbing it into Potter.  
  
  
    “But nightshade’s poison!”  
  
  
    “Knew a fellow that used to use nightshade to counteract the effects of the poisonous snakes he worked with.”  
  
  
    “But that’s crazy!” Mad-Eye nodded.  
  
  
    “Aye; he died young. Come on, let’s get Potter to bed. Nothing more we can do for him.”  
  
  
    Sirius peered into Harry’s face as the young man drifted out of consciousness. He shook his head at the hero’s predicament.  
  
  
    “I told you: ‘Don’t get cocky!’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanfiction.net is currently experiencing technical difficulties. *frowns* That would be why I'm reposting the fic here.
> 
> Thanks to Dragomir (the beta).
> 
> As Dragomir has noted, the punks’ lines in the beginning scene have been severely edited. They may have thought they were hot-stuff, but they didn’t strike me as funny and the Cape mimicking them by repeating “dawg” is, alas, not proper banter. (Harry did a better job of talking back to Snape at age 11.) I will always love this show, but working on this fic is showing me a terrible number of flaws. If I were a better writer, I’d be doing a better job of striking the blemishes, rather than highlighting them. Oh well…


	4. Tarot Part Two: Potters are Fighters

Ginny fingered Harry’s dog tags.  
  
  
_Flashback_  
  
  
    Ginny unpacked a popcorn maker and sighed. Why the hell hadn’t Harry told her he was going to buy it? She could have told him they already had one.  
  
  
    “Where do you want to put _your_ popcorn maker?” she asked. Trying to distract his wife from the blunder he’d made, he captured her lips with his. She smiled as she pulled away, and then swatted his arm playfully.  
  
  
    “That is not unpacking. What are we going to do with two of these?” Harry looked sheepish. Merlin, but he looked cute that way. She leaned in and kissed him.  
  
  
    “That was you this time,” Harry said afterwards.  
  
  
    “No it wasn’t,” Ginny said, struggling to keep a straight face. She turned to another box. They really did need to finish unpacking. They had moved into their new house days ago. “What’s in here?” Ginny fished out a coffee tin and found Harry’s dog tags and…was that what she thought it was?  
  
  
    “The congressional medal of valor,” Harry replied.  
  
  
    “What did you get that for?” _And why didn’t you tell me you’d gotten a medal?_  
  
  
    “Surviving,” Harry answered curtly. He plucked the can from Ginny’s hands. “This is the stuff we left behind on missions. You can’t take any photos or letters from home or anything that could identify you. If I got captured, I couldn’t be Harry Potter.”  
  
  
    “Then who were you?” Ginny asked.  
  
  
    “Someone else,” Harry said after a pause. “Someone you probably wouldn’t like.”  
  
  
_End flashback_  
  
  
    Ginny put the dog tag away as the doorbell rang. That would be the Malfoys. She’d invited Draco and Astoria over for dinner.  
  
  
    As she walked to the door, she pushed aside the treacherous doubt that had seeped into her mind. Just because Harry had done things in the war that he wasn’t proud of, didn’t mean he had been capable of doing the things he’d been accused of.  
  
  
    She opened the door to find her friends standing there.  
  
  
    “I hope you like red because we had a big debate,” Mrs. Malfoy said as she handed Ginny the bottle of wine.  
  
  
    “You did well,” she assured them as she let them in.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Moody watched as Potter finally came to, carefully stretching in bed.  
  
  
    “So how does it feel to be a superhero?” he asked. Harry winced.  
  
  
    “It _hurts.”_ Damn. He might not have broken any bones in the fall off of ARK Tower, but he felt sore as hell. Moody simply chuckled as Potter sat up.  
  
  
    “Where’s the cape?” he asked.  
  
  
    “I have it and I’m keeping it,” Moody informed him. That got Harry out of bed.  
  
  
    “ _What?”_  
  
  
    “You’re not ready,” Moody growled. “When you’re on the high wire, you have to be as cold and collected as Snape. When you’re in the lions’ den, you can’t let ‘em smell fear. You have to exercise constant vigilance! You walked into the lions’ den and got eaten, Potter.  
  
  
    “You’re a desperate man and giving you the cape was just throwing gasoline on the fire. I was wrong to do it.”  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye, I need that cape.”  
  
  
    “No, you don’t. Here,” Moody picked up three train tickets out of Palm City and handed them to Potter. “I spent good money on these,” namely money he’d stolen from ARK. “Don’t let them go to waste. Take your wife and your boy and leave this hellhole. Go somewhere else; change your name. You can see your boy; hold your wife. There’s no shame in it.”  
  
  
    Harry stared at the tickets in his hands. Dear god, he’d love to be back with Ginny and Al…but not like this.  
  
  
    “And do what?” Harry snapped at the older man. “And look over my shoulder for the rest of my life? Send a message to my son that Potters are cowards that run away from a fight? No!  
  
  
    “Snape took EVERYTHING from me--my family, my home, my name. I am going to stay here until I take it all back,” Harry threw the tickets at Moody. “Keep your damn cape, then. I don’t need it. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Neville was headed home. He greeted the janitor on his way out.  
  
  
    “Have a good one!”  
  
  
    “You too, sir,” Fenrir replied.  
  
  
    As Neville waited by the elevators, Hermione called out to him.  
  
  
    “Neville Longbottom, finally! We had an appointment earlier but you never showed for the interview,” Orwell lied.  
  
  
    “I’m sorry; there wasn’t anything on my calendar, Miss…?”  
  
  
    “April Prince, for the _Congressional Quarterly._ Huh, well, it was on my Blackberry,” she continued as she escorted him onto the elevator. Fenrir rushed forward as the doors started to close in his face. “Take the next one,” she snapped.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Al answered the phone when it rang.  
  
  
    “Hello? Who? There’s nobody here by that--” Ginny walked up behind Al, a basket of laundry in one hand.  
  
  
    “Who is it?” she asked.  
  
  
    “Somebody asking for Ginny Weasley,” Al replied.  
  
  
    “I’ll take that,” Ginny took the cordless from Al’s hand. “Hello, this is Ginny Weasley--”  
  
  
    Al looked at his mother, feeling betrayed.  
  
  
    “That’s not your name,” he said, wounded, as he turned and stalked off. Ginny’s face fell. After she was done with the phone call, she went and found Al in his room, facing the window.  
  
  
    “You think Dad did it, don’t you?” he asked, the pain evident in his voice.  
  
  
    “NO! It’s just that I have to get a job.” Since Harry was no longer around to pay the bills, somebody had to support the family. “And right now, it’s really hard to have Daddy’s name.”  
  
  
    “It’s his name, Mum. Why would you want to erase his name?”  
  
  
    His father was innocent. The Cape said so, so it had to be true. Why didn’t anyone else believe that? He’d heard Malfoy last night, telling his mum that dad had ordered Kingsley’s security to abandon him minutes before Chess blew the chief up. Couldn’t everyone see that his dad was being framed?  
  
  
    “Al…”  
  
  
_Flashback_  
  
  
    Harry held baby Al in his arms, Ginny standing next to him, gazing lovingly at her son.  
  
  
    “I think he’s got my chin,” Harry said as the baby’s hand reached up towards his face.  
  
  
    “No, that’s my mum’s chin,” Ginny corrected him. Al’s little hand wandered down his father’s cheek and grabbed Harry just underneath the mouth.  
  
  
    “No, I mean, he literally has my chin,” Harry joked. The baby finally let go of his viselike grip. “No, that’s definitely a Potter chin.” He cooed at the baby. “Your great-grandfather was a World War I hero, who fought in the trenches. And your grandfather, James Potter, was a Palm City sheriff, and he could shoot a Coke bottle from--”  
  
  
    “What’s with all the talk about guns?” Ginny asked.  
  
  
    “I just want him to be proud of his name,” Harry said. “Potters are fighters. And they all had this chin,” he added. Ginny smiled up at her husband.  
  
  
    “Okay, you can keep the chin. ‘Cause you know what? I want him to grow up to be just like you.”  
  
  
_End Flashback_  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    If that was the way Mad-Eye felt, clearly Harry had overstayed his welcome in Trolley Park. He roamed the city in civilian clothes, his cap and hood up at all times. Tucked into a side street in one of the city’s least desirable neighborhoods, Harry found what he was looking for:  Abandoned property. He climbed down into the cellar of the building. It was large and deserted and empty. There was no furniture, no fixtures… Okay, it was a fixer-upper, but it was all that officially-deceased Harry Potter could afford, so he _would_ fix it up.  
  
  
    He went out and bought essentials for the place. Soon he had it outfitted with working lamps, a mattress that was as hard as a rock (but beggars can’t be choosers), and a few other items. The most important feature was the murder board that he tacked onto one wall. Here he would post whatever he learned about Chess. He tacked a picture of Snape to the board and an article about ARK Corporation’s bid to privatize the prisons. He would work this as he would have worked a case for the PCPD…  
  
  
    Alright, he couldn’t work it as if it were just any other case. This board was also to keep him sane and if it was going to do that, something was missing. He tacked up a photo of Ginny and Al. There: now whenever he needed to remember why he was doing what he was doing, he’d be able to look at a picture of the family that he would eventually go home to.  
  
  
    Right, his hideout was ready, but his costume was not. Without the hood from the cape to hide his face, he’d need something else to conceal his secret identity. The answer came in the form of a leather pilot helmet. He got a sewing kit and went to work. He used a pair of scissors to cut away the goggles and get it the correct shape.  
  
  
    When he was done, the Cape’s mask was ready. He picked it up reverently and tied it on. His green eyes were wet, but his jaw was set determinedly. Whatever it took, he would clear his name.  
  
  
    Maybe he hadn’t been prepared for his first encounter with the poisoner, but he’d be ready for the next. While he’d been out getting supplies for his hideout, he’d picked up a book on poisons, as well as some samples. (Was there anything you couldn’t pick up in Palm City if you knew where to look?)  
  
  
    Using an eyedropper, he tried a couple of drops of the toxin Fenrir favored on his tongue. Bloody hell! His body started convulsing. Somehow he made his way to his new bed and collapsed onto it, shivering and sweating until the effects wore off. Still, if he built up even a little immunity to this venom, it would be worth it.  
  
  
    Once the stuff had worked its way out of his system, Harry got back to work. Getting out some knives, he rigged up an improvised machine that would automatically hurl the blades at him so he could practice dodging them. Turning the machine on, Harry stood a few feet away. The first knife sliced into the board behind him, close to his head. _Relax, you can do this…  
_  
  
    The second knife quickly followed the first, landing a little closer to him this time.  
  
  
    “Maybe I ought to slow it down,” Harry muttered, just before a third knife came straight towards him, quickly followed by a fourth and a fifth. Harry dropped down to the floor to avoid being hit and crawled his way back towards the machine so he could shut it off. Perhaps he ought to make some modifications to it before he tried again…  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Wearing his mask, Harry roughed up one of the hoodlums from the convenience store robbery, but not before the piece of work had gotten a few blows in. Blood dribbled down Harry’s chin as he shoved the tosser against the wall of the alley. With his other hand, Harry took a look at the ID from the crook’s wallet.  
  
  
    “Tell you what, Cormac,” Harry paused. “Seriously, ‘Cormac’?”  
  
  
    “Yeah, so?” Cormac replied.  
  
  
    “You tell me what Fenrir’s planning and I’ll let you go.”  
  
  
    “I’m not going to snitch. Do you know what happens to snitches?”  
  
  
    “You’d better tell me or I’ll spread the word that you did snitch. You talked about Chess, you talked about L-9, you talked about whatever I can think of. You just sang like a little boys choir soprano, got it?”  
  
  
    “Okay, okay! Not here, alright? There’s a bar, the Hog’s Head--”  
  
  
    “I know it,” Harry replied.  
  
  
    “I’ll meet you there at midnight. Come alone.”  
  
  
    Harry narrowed his eyes, but released Cormac, who took off running. He turned and saw Orwell walking towards him.  
  
  
    “I see you’re alright,” she greeted him.  
  
  
    “Yeah, thanks for the get-well card,” Harry replied sarcastically. He hadn’t heard from her since she’d dumped his poisoned body at the edge of Trolley Park.  
  
  
    “Speaking of that,” she picked a tarot card out of her pocket and handed it to him.  
  
  
    “The Tower?” Harry asked.  
  
  
    “It’s the calling card of a major branch of the Tarot. Fenrir had this tattooed on his left forearm.”  
  
  
    “The Tarot?” Harry removed his mask, since they were alone in the alley. “Okay, maybe my head is a little fuzzy because I just took a baseball bat to the head, but is that supposed to mean anything to me?”  
  
  
    “It’s a secret society of elite assassins, the existence of which has never been proven--until now. I think Fenrir’s their poisoner.  
  
  
    “By the way, where’s your cape?”  
  
  
    “Dry cleaner’s,” Harry replied.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry walked into the Hog’s Head later to meet Cormac, sunglasses hiding his eyes in place of the mask he’d worn earlier, and baseball cap firmly in place. He approached the potential informant at the bar.  
  
  
    “Pretty public place for a private chat,” Harry observed. “What do you have for me?”  
  
  
    “Longbottom’s the target,” Cormac offered, before taking another sip of his drink. When nothing else was forthcoming, Harry grabbed the jerk by the shoulders.  
  
  
    “You’re going to make me angry if you keep telling me things I already know.”  
  
  
    “Okay! The hit’s going down tomorrow night.”  
  
  
    “Where?” Harry demanded. “When?” But no words came out of Cormac’s mouth. Instead, it started frothing as he began to choke. Harry looked around in horror. The same thing was happening to everyone else in the pub, too, as they collapsed where they were. Cormac’s eyes stared unseeingly up at the ceiling.  
  
  
     _Shite._ Harry plucked a card reading “The Tower,” from a nearby glass. Somehow Fenrir had beaten him here and poisoned everyone’s drinks.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The next day, Neville poured himself a glass of whiskey, but before he could take a sip, a voice called out from the shadows of his office.  
  
  
    “DON’T DRINK THAT!”  
  
  
    “Who’s there?”  
  
  
    “The glass is poisoned, probably the drink, too.”  
  
  
    “Show yourself!”  
  
  
    “Just take it easy,” Harry took a step forwards, his mask firmly in place, his hands raised to calm Longbottom down. “Listen to me: Severus Snape has sent an assassin after you. He wants to get rid of you so you won’t be able to keep him from taking over the prisons.”  
  
  
    “That’s it; I give up!” Neville exclaimed. “I’ve been followed; I’ve been threatened. I found this under my door this morning,” Longbottom produced the now familiar looking tarot card. “Somehow, I don’t think this is a good thing.”  
  
  
    “No, it’s not,” Harry conceded, “but you can’t give up! You have to stand against Snape!”  
  
  
    “I can’t do it alone!”  
  
  
    “You’re _not_ alone.” Neville stared at the masked man.  
  
  
    “Forgive me, but that’s not too reassuring coming from a man that won’t show his face.  
  
  
    “What are you, some sort of do-gooder vigilante, some sort of superhero?” Harry looked him right in the eye.  
  
  
    “I’m the Cape.” Neville looked pointedly at the mystery man’s street clothes. He didn’t look a thing like the comic book character.  
  
  
    “You realize you’re not wearing a cape?”  
  
  
    “I’m aware of that,” Harry said quickly.  
  
  
    “No offense,” Neville said.  
  
  
    “None taken.  
  
  
    “ _I_ can’t show my face, but you can, Longbottom, and that’s why you have to stand up to Snape. I meant it; you’re not alone. There are others out there; there’s an underground.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Ginny sat in the lobby of the Palm City Public Defenders’ office building, waiting for her interview. An older, exhausted-looking man holding a clipboard strolled up to her.  
  
  
    “Ginny Potter?” he asked.  
  
  
    “That’s me,” she said smiling, as she got to her feet.  
  
  
    “Remus Lupin,” he shook her hand. “Look, I’m sorry to do this to you, but I’m afraid the position has been filled.” He started strolling away from her quickly. Ginny narrowed her eyes. Position had been filled, huh? Bull. She followed after him as quickly as she could in her heels.  
  
  
    “I know my name is a stigma,” she called out.  
  
  
    “That is not the case,” Lupin returned.  
  
  
    “You need me,” Ginny said, as she caught up to him. “You’re overworked and understaffed. ARK is filling the jails faster than you can process the cases.  
  
  
    “And let me tell you something that you might want to share with your inquisitive colleagues. My husband never got his day in court. If you had a vertebra in your spine--”  
  
  
    “This interview is over,” Lupin said, feeling affronted and turning away from her once more. He stopped as he considered her. The redhead had spunk and a good point.  
  
  
    “As for the vertebrae in my spine,” he said as he faced her again, “it works both ways. Now I’m afraid to send you home. You always fight this hard for your clients?” Ginny’s smile returned.  
  
  
    “Yeah, I do. Potters are fighters.” Lupin nodded.  
  
  
    “Find a desk,” he instructed her, as he got back to work.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry sat at the computer he’d set up at his hideout. It was out of date, nothing near as fancy as the one Orwell had at her place, but he’d gotten it connected to the Internet, so it would do.  
  
  
    “What are you doing?” Orwell asked over their video chat.  
  
  
    “Logging into the police department archives to see what I can find out about Fenrir.”  
  
  
    “Uh, Harry, you do know that your password won’t work anymore,” his partner pointed out.  
  
  
    “Mine won’t, but Malfoy’s will. He never changed it. What was it? It was the name of his mum’s cat that he couldn’t stand… Ah, Flowers!” Harry typed it in and the password was accepted. Once into the database, he uncovered a long rap sheet on Fenrir.  
  
  
    “My god, Orwell; you should see the number of murders Fenrir’s wanted for in London.” He’d poisoned so many people… hmm. “He spent some time awhile back on Owl Island,” Harry continued reading.  
  
  
    “That’s probably where he was recruited by Tarot,” Orwell surmised.  
  
  
    “There’s an old address for him in Palm City here. Probably won’t be that simple, but I’ll follow up on it.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The door to Harry’s hideout opened and a knife sailed through the air, headed straight for Harry’s face. Harry caught it at the last second and his assailant stepped out of the shadows.  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye? What are you doing here?” How had he even found the place? It wasn’t as if he’d told anyone at Trolley Park where he’d gone.  
  
  
    “Ron’s made cabbage stew,” Moody made a face. “The smell alone drove me away. That man is not talented in the kitchen.” Harry raised an eyebrow. That couldn’t be why Mad-Eye was really here.  
  
  
    “Brought you something,” Moody continued, as he tossed a bundle to Potter. It was the cape. The old codger had secretly been watching Potter’s progress. Clearly, losing the cape hadn’t deterred him in the slightest. Might as well make sure his pupil went out armed properly if he couldn’t keep him from going out. Potter smiled.  
  
  
    “Thanks, Mad-Eye.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP    
  
  
    The Cape, once again wearing his costume, but now with the addition of his mask, snuck into Fenrir’s old lair. He spied a figure in the shadows at the other end of the room. Harry flung out his cape and knocked its head clean off its shoulders. He frowned as he stepped closer. It was a mannequin. Fenrir was long gone.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Hermione, all dressed up for the evening, stared down at one of the tables in the restaurant. Her lead had panned out. There was Neville Longbottom sitting at the same table with _him--_ Severus Snape. She took a deep breath. She couldn’t let him see her; couldn’t afford to be recognized, but couldn’t just leave, either. The maitre d’ approached her.  
  
  
    “I’m sorry, but we’re fully booked this evening, Miss…?”  
  
  
    “Eileen Greenwood, blogger for Taste Buds. Not to brag, but we were just purchased by the _Herald_ last week, and already our traffic has increased by two hundred percent. I usually don’t drop by a restaurant unannounced but…” Orwell trailed off as the maitre d’ straightened up.  
  
  
    “Right this way, Ms. Greenwood,” he said as he led her down the stairs and to a table near Longbottom’s. “I’m sure the chef will make something special for you,” he continued, as she took a seat with her back to Snape.  
  
  
    “Thank you for coming to hear me out, Mr. Longbottom,” Snape smiled. Funny how he could manage to turn on the charm when he didn’t look menacing.  
  
  
    “I just want you to know, Mr. Snape, that there’s nothing you can say to convince me…”  
  
  
    Hermione pulled out her cell phone and sent a text message to Harry, giving him the name of the restaurant and warning him that the hit was going down now.  
  
  
    Fenrir, obviously the chef this evening, strolled over to her.  
  
  
    “A food critic, eh? You look familiar, have we met?”  
  
  
    “No, we haven’t,” Hermione dredged up a smile.  
  
  
    “How about you join me in the kitchen? I’ll give you a tour,” the assassin said.  
  
  
    “Thank you, but I simply couldn’t,” Orwell said.  
  
  
    “I insist.” Terrific; she’d been made. She stood up to follow him. On the plus side, Snape wasn’t glancing her way, so at least he hadn’t spotted her. Some comfort that would be if Fenrir sliced her up in the kitchen before Harry could arrive…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to get some feedback from my dear readers. How’re you enjoying the flashbacks? How about the use of HP characters?
> 
> Thanks again to Dragomir (the beta)!


	5. Tarot Part Three: Game On

As Fenrir led Hermione into the kitchen, a waiter brought out Neville’s food and laid the dish in front of him. The Secretary of Prisons feigned nonchalance. The Cape had warned him that Snape had hired an assassin who had poisoned his drink. He had a sneaking suspicion that this food was poisoned, too. Now, how could he avoid tasting the meal without letting Snape know he was onto him? Perhaps he could stall by going to the bathroom…  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “So, Ms. Greenwood, you must be very busy,” Fenrir said as he ushered Orwell ahead of him, “between your food blog and your job for the _Congressional Quarterly!”_ He grabbed a knife and lunged at Hermione, who simultaneously whipped out her taser and aimed it at him. The killer knocked the device out of her hands and she ran.  
  
  
    Fenrir threw another knife and the Cape, arriving in the nick of time, caught it.   
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    While Harry distracted Fenrir, Hermione grabbed a spare chef’s jacket and threw it on as she high-tailed it back to the tables.  
  
  
    “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, as she took the untouched plate away from Longbottom. She mumbled something about the order having been mixed up as she left, hoping neither Neville nor Snape got a good look at her.  
  
  
    For his part, Longbottom made a show of protesting as his food was taken away, but was inwardly relieved that the young woman had come to his rescue. Perhaps she was a member of the underground the Cape had mentioned.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry, meanwhile, was grateful that he had practiced dodging and catching knives since he’d last met Fenrir. Overpowering the maniac, he pushed the assassin over a running grill. The poisoner hissed in pain as the heat seared his face.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Loud clanging sounds emanated from the kitchen. One of Snape’s minions walked up to his table and bent to whisper to him.  
  
  
    “You’d better take a look, sir.” Snape suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, as that would only look undignified. Of course he had better see what was going on. If everything had been going according to plan, there wouldn’t have been suspicious noises coming from the kitchen, and Longbottom would’ve consumed his poisoned meal and been history.  
  
  
    He smiled and excused himself from the table to find out what, precisely, had gone wrong. As the billionaire entered the kitchen, he was met with an unexpected sight. Fenrir was lying on top of one of the counters, his hands and feet bound together, his face sporting scars that indicated someone had tried to barbecue it.   
  
  
    Snape turned to look for the culprit behind this, and was rewarded with the sight of his new nemesis, the Cape, in all his glory. (The mask looked new. The better to hide his identity, Snape supposed.) The vigilante stood looking at him for a moment before dropping a pellet and disappearing with a whirl of the cape and a puff of smoke.  
  
  
    Severus stood eyeing the spot the hero had disappeared from, and grinned. Oh, good. The Cape was still alive; that meant he could continue to play the game.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The next day, Harry watched the coverage of the vote on the news.  
  
  
    Neville stood up.   
  
  
    “Alright, everyone has had a say,” he began. Everyone knew that Neville’s vote would decide the matter. “And as Secretary of Prisons, I vote nay. The motion is denied; Palm City’s prisons will remain under the control of the State.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The Cape stood atop a skyscraper in Palm City that evening, smiling. Longbottom had stood up to Snape. Maybe there was hope for the city, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Dragomir (my beta)!
> 
> NBC’s television show, “The Cape,” was set in Palm City. They never specified where the city was located. I had no idea there was a Palm City, Florida. I assumed it was a fictional setting, like Gotham City, or Metropolis. I even went so far as to set the city in the fictitious state of Franklin in my fics. (Franklin is not my creation, either. It is a product of the bar examiners’ imagination.) I’m sure the weather in Florida would be perfect for the show’s setting, but I am going to keep my fics located in Franklin for two reasons. One: I would never want to insult the Floridian municipality by describing it as a hellhole. Two: As an author, I can make up the laws of Franklin. :)
> 
>  
> 
> So, no cliffhanger for a change as episode two draws to a close. Is everyone ready for episode three or have you had enough? You know how to let me know. While you’re at it, you can tell me whether the unpredictability of the chapter lengths is driving you crazy. (Yes, I know this was a short chapter. I’ll stop now before the author’s note becomes longer than the text.)


	6. Kozmo Part One: From Russia With Love

Somewhere in the bowels of a maximum-security Russian prison, a doctor flashed a light into Peter Pettigrew’s mouth. After finishing with his inspection, he clicked the light off and turned to the warden.  
  
  
    “He’s not concealing anything,” the physician said in Russian. The warden approached Pettigrew.  
  
  
    “You may have escaped other prisons, but even Peter the Worm won’t be able to escape from _my_ prison,” the warden sneered as Pettigrew, wearing a straightjacket, was locked inside a holding cell.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Within hours, alarms blared across the prison. The warden raced down the hallway towards Pettigrew’s cell, the physician not far behind. As they got close, they found guards’ bodies strewn across the floor. The cell door itself was wide open; only the straightjacket on the ground evidence that a prisoner had been there.  
  
  
    “How did he escape?” the warden demanded. The physician examined the floor outside the cell and found a small opening leading into the sewers.  
  
  
    “Impossible!” the doctor exclaimed. “He’d have to dislocate all of his joints in order to fit through there!” Well, Pettigrew was a famous contortionist, but how did he get out of his cell in the first place?  
  
  
    “How did he pick the lock?” the warden asked, before he discovered the answer to his question a moment later. A lock pick lay discarded on the ground. Evidently it had passed the inspection without notice because it had been disguised as one of Pettigrew’s teeth.  
  
  
    Throwing the pick down in fury, the man found that Pettigrew had left something else for them to find:  A message on the wall written in blood, consisting of a single word: Kozmo.  
  
  
INSERT THEME MUSIC  
  
  
    Blaise Zabini, ARK law enforcement officer (okay, ARK enforcer, to be precise), drove his car through the streets of Palm City. He slowed down as he approached a bridge. Something wasn’t right. He felt like he was being watched… He got out his cell phone and hit the number on his speed dial for ARK.  
  
  
    A moment later the driver’s side door was ripped off its hinges. Blaise hit the brakes. There, a few feet away, stood the vigilante that they were whispering about in the corridors: the Cape. _Shite._  
  
  
    Blaise pulled his weapon as he emerged from the vehicle and opened fire on the masked man.  
  
  
    Harry used the door he’d grabbed to shield himself from the bullets, only tossing it aside after Zabini stopped shooting.  
  
  
    “I open the door for you and this is the thanks I get?” Harry rasped. Using the cape, he latched onto Zabini’s ankles, knocking him off his feet, and dragged him to the side of the bridge, which he promptly chucked Zabini over. The cape around Zabini’s legs was the only thing keeping the upside down man from plunging to the concrete below.  
  
  
    “You know, they say the cream rises to the top, but in my experience it’s always the scum,” Potter smirked.  
  
  
    “What do you want?” Zabini shouted.  
  
  
    “You know that Potter was innocent and that Severus Snape is Chess,” the Cape replied. He remembered Zabini from the day he had been framed. Blaise, the bastard, had been the one to secure Chess’ mask to his head with a stapler.   
  
  
    “I want you to come forward with the truth,” Harry finished.  
  
  
    “If you want to kill me, just do it,” Zabini replied. “If I talk, I’m dead.”  
  
  
    “Wrong answer,” Harry said. He gave the cape some slack, letting Zabini slip lower.  
  
  
    “ _Harry!”_ Orwell’s voice came over his headset. “ _He placed a call to ARK for backup. They’ll be there in three minutes!”  
  
_  
    “Last chance,” Harry warned Zabini, who refused to cave in. Well, he’d warned him. Potter dropped Zabini, who fell onto the top of a passing truck, bruised, but (sadly) still alive.  
  
  
    “ _You said you were only going to talk to him!”_ Hermione said, aghast, as she’d watched Harry’s actions filmed on a security camera.  
  
  
    “I didn’t like what he had to say,” Harry spat. He softened his tone as he asked his partner for help. “Take me home.”  
  
  
     _“I’m blocking the cameras along Fifth Avenue. Go down to Chandler Boulevard; it’ll take you straight to Trolley Park.”  
_  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Back at Trolley Park, Harry practiced using the cape to knock heads off mannequins. Mad-Eye walked in on him.  
  
  
    “You know, you told me you wanted the cape to send a message to your son.”  
  
  
    “I know why I’m wearing the cape,” Harry replied as he replaced the head on a mannequin so he could decapitate it again. “It’s going to take me home, back to Ginny and Al.” Moody grunted.  
  
  
    “Maybe, but it can also take you places you don’t want to go.” He remembered the places it took Pettigrew and frowned. Potter wouldn’t end up like that; he was different. Although, he hadn’t thought Pettigrew would end up like that, either…  
  
  
    “Can you save the wisdom of Solomon crap for another time?” Harry asked.  
  
  
    “Just remember, Potter:  Either you wear the cape or the cape wears you. And those are Solomon’s last words,” he barked as he left the room.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The next day was Al’s first day at his new school (near the apartment building he now lived in). His teacher, Delores Umbridge, a toad-like woman wearing a lot of pink, smiled as she introduced him to his classmates.  
  
  
    “This is Albus Potter. It’s his first day at this school, so let’s make him feel welcome, shall we?” Before she let Al go to his seat, she whispered to him. “Don’t worry. They’ll warm up to you as soon as they see that you’re not like your fa-- er, that is, that you’re a nice boy.”  
  
  
    Al barely refrained from glaring at the woman. It was quite obvious what she had been about to say. As it was, he couldn’t talk back to the teacher, so he made his way to the seat she had indicated was his. Opening up the desk, he found that his schoolmates had left chess pieces inside. His stomach clenched.  
  
  
    “Son of Chess!” the kids near him taunted. Delores cleared her throat.  
  
  
    “Ahem,” she said. “Now, let’s settle down children…”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Severus Snape stood gazing out of his office window as one of his investigators spoke to him via their video chat.  
  
  
    “It’s her. She’s been using different passports in Europe--”  
  
  
    “It’s not her,” Snape said without turning back to the computer. He knew as soon as he’d seen the photos, shoddy though they were, that it wasn’t.  
  
  
    “We can get clearer pictures, fingerprints…”  
  
  
    “Don’t bother,” Severus instructed him as he turned away from the window and approached the screen. “I’m her father. I’d know my own daughter if I saw her. Keep looking.”   
  
  
    Ending the chat, Snape sat down at his desk and picked up the music box that had once been his daughter’s. He was about to open it when his secretary buzzed him.  
  
  
    “Mr. Snape, Mr. Malfoy is here to see you.”  
  
  
    “Send him in,” he directed as he put the box away.  
  
  
    Draco came in.  
  
  
    “Turns out Orwell isn’t a ghost after all. We tracked his signal last night to the location it came from.” Snape raised an eyebrow and looked first behind Malfoy and then back to him.  
  
  
    “And yet, Orwell isn’t here in front of me because…” Malfoy deflated.  
  
  
    “By the time we got there, the place had been torched.”  
  
  
    “So this isn’t good news,” Snape concluded. “Come take a look at this,” he led Malfoy over to his computer and pulled up Orwell’s blog. “‘ARK Linked to Arms in Iran’; that’s half-true. Here’s my favorite,” he said as he pulled up another blog entry, “‘Is Draco Malfoy Severus Snape’s Puppet?’”  
  
  
    “Sir,” Malfoy began.  
  
  
    “Orwell used to be an annoying fly. Now he’s a threat. Have the satellites used to find him.”  
  
  
    “But, sir, those are military satellites.”  
  
  
    “Financed, designed by, and built by ARK. They won’t miss them,” Snape assured the younger man. “While you’re at it, double the budget for the search team. I want Orwell found and eliminated--permanently.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Peter Pettigrew stepped into the Carnival of Crime.  
  
  
    “Hey,” Ron said. “You can’t come in here. This is private property, mate.”  
  
  
    “Pardon me, I’m looking for the leader of this merry band of misfits,” Pettigrew said. Hearing his voice, Moody came over.  
  
  
    “Well, well, Peter Pettigrew.”  
  
  
    “Kozmo!” Peter smiled and embraced Moody. “How are you Koz’?”  
  
  
    “I don’t use that name anymore. I’m just Mad-Eye now. What brings you here?” the codger barked.  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye, surely you know that. Why, I’m here for my cape.”  
  
  
    Tonks risked a glance at Mad-Eye at this pronouncement.  
  
  
    Harry, hiding in the wings, eavesdropping on the conversation, froze. What did this man mean when he said it was his cape? And what did he mean by calling Mad-Eye Kozmo? Didn’t Moody tell him that Kozmo was the Russian escape artist the cape had been designed for in, like, the 1800s?  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Mad-Eye led Pettigrew back to his private quarters and shut the door.  
  
  
    “I don’t have it anymore. Anyhow, the cape was just an old rag. You’d best forget it.”  
  
  
    “That ‘old rag’ was all I could think about in prison, Mad-Eye; it’s how I stayed sane for twenty years. You told me it would change my life. Now you’re telling me you don’t have it?”  
  
  
    “That’s right.”  
  
  
    Harry barged through the door.  
  
  
    “I hope I’m not interrupting. I heard we were hosting a foreign dignitary.” Pettigrew smiled as he turned to introduce himself to Potter.  
  
  
    “Peter Pettigrew, also known as Peter the Worm, escape artist, contortionist, and master magician. And you are?”  
  
  
    “Harry, the Never Knocks Before Entering,” Moody barked before Potter could get a word in. “He works at the carnival. Peter was just leaving.” With that, Mad-Eye ushered Pettigrew out the door. Once he was gone, Harry turned to him.  
  
  
    “Why did he call you Kozmo? You told me that Kozmo was alive in 1847--”  
  
  
    “There were many Kozmos, that’s why they called him Unkillable,” Moody replied. What, did Potter think he was immortal? He sighed. “The first Kozmo was a murderer and a thief. When he died, he passed his cape and his legend along to the next Kozmo… I’m sorry to say I played my part in the tale.”  
  
  
    “Wait, you told me Kozmo was Russian?” Harry made the statement sound like a question.  
  
  
    Moody stared at Potter. Really, that was the sticking point? Not his sordid past?  
  
  
    “The original Kozmo was, yes. Obviously, I’m not and neither is Peter. We met in Russia, though. Peter was my student. He was next in line for the cape, but when I saw what it brought out in him, I took it back.”  
  
  
    “And then you gave it to _me_ ,” Harry finished. “So, hang on. You think I’m the next Kozmo?”  
  
  
    “No. I was the last Kozmo,” Moody corrected him. “I killed the Unkillable. You’re the start of something new, something different, something good… I hope.  
  
  
    “You’ll need to lay low for a few days, just until Peter’s out of town. Don’t worry; there’ll still be plenty of crime left in the city,” Moody assured him as he donned a top hat. “I’ll make sure of it.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Remus walked into Ginny’s office and dumped a stack of files on her desk.  
  
  
    “Your caseload for the week,” he explained.  
  
  
    “Oh come on!” Ginny exclaimed. “This is ridiculous. ARK is out of control. Arrests are up two hundred percent!”  
  
  
    “And crime is down, so people are happy,” Remus shrugged. “Look, our job isn’t to take down the system, it’s to take down this pile,” he pointed at the stack he’d given her, “one file at a time.” Ginny huffed and opened the first file.  
  
  
    “Ugh! This is what I’m talking about. Public urination? Seriously?” Ah. Well, perhaps Ginny could get the client off using the defense of necessity.  
  
  
    “I suggest you use the when you got to go, you got to go defense,” Remus advised her. _Did he think this was amusing?_ Ginny wadded up a blank form and chucked it at Lupin’s head. He dodged it.  
  
  
    “Got to go,” he said as he ducked out of her office.  
  
  
    Ginny turned back to the file. It said that Mundugus Fletcher had been arrested at the Palm City Freight Yards… Wait a minute. That was where they had found Harry the day he was killed…  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Ginny met with her client. After discussing his case with Mundugus, she broached the subject that had been weighing on her mind.  
  
  
    “Were you at the freight yards when they found that guy…” she trailed off. She didn’t want to refer to Harry as Chess. Fortunately, Fletcher understood what she was talking about.  
  
  
    “Yeah, I was there. That guy they said done it, he didn’t. They put the needle in him and then they took him away. Then later we see the same guy wearing a mask. He wasn’t wearing it before.” Ginny’s eyes widened. This man was an eyewitness to the fact that her husband had been framed?  
  
  
    “You saw this?”  
  
  
    “Everyone there saw it.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    When Harry got back to his hideout, Hermione was there waiting for him.  
  
  
    “As a result of your little stunt last night,” Orwell began, “ARK threw out a dragnet and caught me in it. I evacuated my place minutes before troops descended on it.” She gave him a _what-kind-of-a-friend-would-nearly-get-me-arrested look,_ which Harry didn’t appreciate.  
  
  
    “What kind of a friend doesn’t tell me her name, Orwell?” he shot back. “Who are you? Where’d you go to school? Where did you get the money for all your fancy stuff, the fancy car?  
  
  
    “That’s what I thought,” Harry said when he saw that she didn’t trust him enough to tell him anything. “Friends have _names,”_ he insisted.  
  
  
    “Like Mad-Eye Moody?” Orwell scoffed. “There’s a name. Does he know about me?”  
  
  
    “No, he doesn’t.”  
  
  
    “Are you sure?”  
  
  
    “Yes, I am. I trust him,” and he trusted Orwell, but she evidently didn’t return that trust.  
  
  
    “What do you know about him?”  
  
  
    “If this is about that Peter guy--”  
  
  
    “I looked Peter Pettigrew up on Interpol. He left a trail of bodies from Berlin to Moscow. His weapon of choice was your cape.  
  
  
    “I’ll need to stay here for a day.” Harry nodded. He owed her that much.  
  
  
    “Alright, but the Comfort Inn it is not. You know, I have a friend from the circus that drops in from time to time,” he warned her, thinking of Ron. “Actually, you two might hit it off.”  
  
  
    “Doubtful,” the blogger replied.  
  
  
    “Oh? Little kids like the circus. You were a kid once, weren’t you?”  
  
  
    Hermione’s brow creased. She didn’t like thinking about her childhood. It hadn’t been the most pleasant experience, considering her father…  
  
  
    Not privy to his friend’s reverie, Harry climbed up to his bed, comic book in tow. He began reading the latest issue of “The Cape.”  
  
  
    “Now that the Arsonist is behind bars, I should be able to catch my breath…”  
  
  
    Across town, in his room, Al was reading the same comic book.  
  
  
    “But I know that a new threat is lurking just behind the corner. When it arises, I’ll face it, for I am the Cape,” Al read.  
  
  
    “One man. One fight. One right,” Harry finished reading, tears in his eyes. He should have been at home with his family, reading the comic book together with Al.  
  
  
    Finished with the comic book, Al left his room and found the closet where his mum had put away his father’s things. He got out his dad’s old army jacket and slipped it on. It was a bit big for him, but he felt better wearing it, closer to his father.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Later that night, Harry snuck back to Trolley Park and watched as Pettigrew left the carnival. Wearing civilian clothes, the hero followed the contortionist through the streets in one of the city’s seedier districts.  
  
  
    He watched as Pettigrew bumped into someone. Other passersby obstructed his view, and when they had moved, the Worm was already gone.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Peter was playing poker with a few thugs he’d just met, and winning. He pulled the chips towards him.   
  
  
    “Must be my lucky night,” he said.  
  
  
    “That kind of luck can get you in trouble,” Ludo Bagman warned him. He’d just lost quite a bit of money to the newcomer.  
  
  
    “Oh, I’m not looking for trouble, my friends. I just want some information about a cape.”  
  
  
    Another gambler perked up.  
  
  
    “There are rumors going around Trolley Park about a cape. They say it can do things, unnatural things. They say it could kill a man.”  
  
  
    “And who wears this cape?” Peter asked.  
  
  
    “The Cape,” Bagman replied. Peter tried not to roll his eyes.  
  
  
    “I mean, what’s his real name? Surely he wants to be known for his crimes?” The gamblers were silent. They wondered how much this information was worth to this stranger. After a pause, Pettigrew pushed his chips back into the center of the table.  
  
  
    “He doesn’t commit crimes. He’s a hero,” one of the gamblers volunteered. “Like in the comic book,” he finished and then happily collected the chips Pettigrew had put down.  
  
  
     _A hero?_ Aw, hell. Mad-Eye gave the cape to a freaking hero?  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye, you’ve been holding out on me,” Pettigrew sighed. Well, he had the information he was looking for. Without warning, he pulled a handful of throwing knives from his pocket and smoothly tossed them at his companions’ throats, expertly severing their arteries.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The following evening, Harry went back to the area he had lost Pettigrew in and tried to figure out what the Worm had been up to. He spotted a place with crime scene tape affixed to the entrance and asked a street vendor facing it what had happened.  
  
  
    “Some maniac slit a bunch of throats last night; real mess in there. The police are supposed to be on their way.” Then Harry had better check out the scene before ARK personnel arrived. He went inside to take a look.  
  
  
    He didn’t see Pettigrew, who had been watching him, come out of a nearby store and approach the same vendor.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The next day, Orwell was typing a new entry for her blog (on her own computer, she wouldn’t touch Harry’s pathetically outdated equipment) when she heard the door of Harry’s hideout open. That must be the friend from the circus he’d told her about. Hermione quickly shut down her computer and flopped onto her friend’s couch.  
  
  
    “Hello?” Ron called as he approached Hermione. “Hey, you’re not Harry!”  
  
  
    “That makes two of us,” the brunette replied. “He’s not here.”  
  
  
    “Wait, you’re that girl from the Porsche,” Ron said, recognizing her. His face lit up. “Are you Harry’s main squeeze?” Hermione looked at him, amused.  
  
  
    “I don’t squeeze.” Ron’s heart leapt. That sounded like she was single; brilliant.  
  
  
    “Why don’t you come with me back to the Carnival?”  
  
  
    “I don’t think so,” Orwell declined.  
  
  
    “Oh come on. You’ll get to meet all of Harry’s freaky friends,” he cajoled her.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Hermione rode on the back of Ron’s motorcycle as he drove into Trolley Park.  
  
  
    “Get out of the way you clowns!” he called. He wasn’t using a put-down; there actually were clowns standing in the path of his bike. They scattered as he approached.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Ron led Hermione into the tent.  
  
  
    “Ron!” Moody snapped. “You know you’re not allowed to bring strangers back here!”  
  
  
    “She’s a friend of Harry’s,” Ron defended himself.  
  
  
    “You must be Mad-Eye,” Hermione said, smiling as she offered him her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Moody looked at her suspiciously.  
  
  
    “That’s funny. I haven’t heard anything about you…” he trailed off, waiting for her name.  
  
  
    “Julia,” Orwell supplied without missing a beat. Pettigrew burst into the room. Orwell tensed as the killer approached.  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye, you’ve been holding out on me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, a huge thank you to my beta, Dragomir.
> 
> A few more Harry Potter characters brought in for part one of episode three. What did you think? Who is looking forward to part two?
> 
> Also, by show of hits, how many of you like reading about vampires? As some of you know, I’ve begun writing a fic with an AU version of “The Cape” where Chess and Orwell are vampires entitled “Of Wealth and Taste.” Knowledge of the show is definitely helpful before reading that one, but perhaps if you’ve gotten this far you’ll get the gist of it. Pairing in that fic is Cape/Chess.


	7. Kozmo Part Two: The Carnival of Fear

“Where have you been hiding this charming young lady?” Pettigrew asked as he offered Hermione a smile and his hand. He introduced himself and she again said that her name was Julia.  
  
  
    “Pettigrew was just leaving,” Mad-Eye said. “Goodbye, Peter.”  
  
  
    “Goodbye?” Harry asked as he strolled into the room. “Come on, Mad-Eye, you know you have to give your guest a proper send-off!” he exclaimed as he held up a bottle of vodka. Pettigrew grinned as Harry led him over to a table.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Ginny Potter called Draco Malfoy and asked to meet with him right away, saying that it was urgent. He came to meet her at the side entrance to the public defenders’ building. She pulled out the file on her client, Fletcher.  
  
  
    “Malfoy, there were _witnesses,”_ Ginny whispered urgently. She began explaining to him what Fletcher had told her about the night before her husband died. Malfoy looked at her gravely and took the documents from her, promising to launch an investigation.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Meanwhile, back in Trolley Park, Vince and Orwell were seated around a table with the Carnival of Crime as Pettigrew explained to them how many of the joints in his body he could dislocate, and gave them a small demonstration (successfully grossing out both of the women at the table, though the guys didn’t seem to mind).  
  
  
    Having demonstrated his abilities as a contortionist, Pettigrew decided to show off his palm reading skills, too, asking “Julia” to give him her hand. Reluctantly, Orwell surrendered her palm to him and the Worm began examining it.  
  
  
    “Hmm. Spoiled little rich girl, but not your typical princess. You’ve got some real daddy issues,” Pettigrew began.   
  
  
     _That was an understatement._ Hermione tried to roll her eyes and pull her hand out of the creep’s grasp, but he held on tight.  
  
  
    “Let me see,” he admonished her. “I see I’m not the only one here who has been imprisoned…  
  
  
    “I can’t tell you who you are because you don’t know that yourself, but one thing’s for sure, you’re not Julia!” he proclaimed as he finally dropped her hand.  
  
  
    Harry stood up.   
  
  
    “Have you heard how dangerous it is in Palm City?” Potter asked as he began circling the table slowly. “Three people were murdered the night before last.”  
  
  
    “Is that so?” Pettigrew asked, faking nonchalance. He knew perfectly well where this was going.  
  
  
    “You know the interesting thing about the murders,” Harry began as he approached Pettigrew, “was the murder weapon. The men were killed with throwing knives, the exact same knives that the carnival uses.  
  
  
    “Now, I’m thinking that only someone who has been in the carnival would both have access to those knives and know how to use them,” Harry pulled out a knife covered in dry blood and dropped it on the table right in front of Pettigrew.  
  
  
    “Where were you that night, Pettigrew?” the vigilante asked.  
  
  
    “A cop?” Pettigrew rose to his feet. “Mad-Eye, you gave the cape to a _cop?”_  
  
  
    “You’re going back to that Russian prison,” Harry threatened the Worm, jabbing a finger in his face.  
  
  
    “I’ll never go back there,” Pettigrew said, shaking his head. Before Harry could react, Pettigrew tossed down a smoke pellet and disappeared before the smoke cleared.  
  
  
    Harry made to leave and find the contortionist, when Mad-Eye called out to stop him.  
  
  
    “Let him go, Potter! He wants his freedom more than he wants that cape! This isn’t your fight!”  
  
  
    “As long as I’m the Cape it is,” Harry called back as he exited the tent.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Back at his hideout, Harry opened the compartment where he stored his armor and prepared to don his costume. Orwell was with him, biting her lip.  
  
  
    “Harry, what Pettigrew said about me, when he read my palm… He wasn’t wrong. He knows things. He knew you were a cop. He could know--”  
  
  
    “About my family,” Harry said, his green eyes wide. He had to go check on Ginny, now!  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The Cape hid in the shadows as Ginny Potter walked through the parking garage of the office building. The attorney quickened her steps as she heard footsteps growing nearer. Someone was following her!  
  
  
    She reached into her purse and turned to face her pursuer, holding the item aloft like a can of mace… to find Remus Lupin standing there.  
  
  
    Both Potters sighed in relief (though no one heard Harry’s).  
  
  
    “Remus, that was close,” Ginny said.  
  
  
    “Yeah, you could have freshened me to death,” her boss joked. He had noticed that Ginny was not armed with mace, but rather was holding up a breath freshener. Realizing she was still holding it up, Ginny tucked it back into her bag.  
  
  
    “Right, sorry! It’s for my client, the urinator. He kind of reeks.”  
  
  
    “Are you okay, Ginny? You seem a little…tense.”  
  
  
    “I… It’s just…” Ginny sighed before taking a deep breath. “Al’s started at his new school and he’s already been suspended for fighting. The other kids…” Ginny trailed off. They had been insulting Harry. She didn’t condone the way Al had reacted but… Who was she kidding? If she was in his place, the slime balls wouldn’t have gotten off so easy. Harry had been framed damn it! She made a strangled noise, trying to choke back a sob.  
  
  
    Harry’s heart sank. Al had been fighting in school? The hero, who had dropped his hood, could do nothing but crouch there, helplessly, as Remus moved in to comfort his wife.  
  
  
    “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping this on you,” Ginny said, as she struggled to maintain her composure.  
  
  
    “No, it’s alright,” Remus shushed her. “Look, maybe I could talk to Al one time or take him to a ball game?” Ginny smiled.  
  
  
    “Thank you. Yeah, I think a little male bonding would be good for him,” she replied.  
  
  
    Something twisted in Harry’s gut. _He_ should be the male bonding with his son, not this stranger.  
  
  
    Merlin, but his life was seriously messed up!  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Hermione watched as Tonks practiced her aerial act. Mad-Eye walked up behind the blogger.  
  
  
    “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he commented. “Do you have any special talents?”  
  
  
    “I can hotwire a car,” the young woman began. “I can get through any firewall in under a minute.” Moody scowled.  
  
  
    “I was being serious,” the magician groused. She folded her arms.  
  
  
    “So was I.” Mad-Eye scrutinized her, trying to figure her out.   
  
  
    “Well, anyway, stick around for the dress rehearsal, girl. We’re going to put on a hell of a show!”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Mad-Eye was in his room, doing his last-minute preparations when he felt a presence outside his window. He frowned as another’s reflection appeared in his mirror.  
  
  
    “Peter.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    A crowd of people stood around, waiting for the dress rehearsal to start. A man wearing Mad-Eye’s ringleader jacket and top hat stood in the center ring. From somewhere off stage, a voice announced:  
  
  
    “Welcome to Mad-Eye Moody’s Carnival of Fun!”  
  
  
    Afterwards, Pettigrew’s voice rang out: “Welcome to Peter Pettigrew’s Carnival of Fear!  
  
  
    “Tonight you will see acts that have never been seen before. You will watch as the tiger-tamers are eaten!” On cue, a curtain was pulled back to display a tiger prowling around his cage.  
  
  
    The audience applauded, believing this to be part of the show and Pettigrew continued monologuing, revealing Sirius, Tonks and Ron tied to a giant target (again, to cheers from the audience).  
  
  
    “But the greatest act will be the death of Mad-Eye Moody!” Pettigrew proclaimed as he pulled the tarp off of a tank. It was full to the brim with water, and within, struggling against his restraints and holding his breath, was Mad-Eye.  
  
  
    (Again, the audience applauded, believing that they were about to witness an amazing escape act.)  
  
  
    “You should have picked me, Mad-Eye,” Pettigrew chided the drowning man, before turning back to the audience and spreading his arms wide.  
  
  
    “Where is a hero when you need him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you have by now figured out why Hermione has “daddy issues.” Kudos. The rest of you will have to wait until the next chapter, won’t you?
> 
> Thanks to Dragomir for serving as beta.
> 
> I have been asked to continue the story past “Endgame.” While I am as in favor of a happy ending as the next gal, going through “Endgame” alone would make the story twenty to thirty chapters long. Frankly, I’m going to need encouragement just to go from one chapter to the next…
> 
> So, who doesn’t find the story boring?


	8. Kozmo Part Three: Never Lose Hope

Right on cue Harry, as the Cape, swung onto the scene and knocked Pettigrew off his feet. (The audience cheered, still believing this was part of the act.) Then Harry used the cape to overturn the tank. Water flowed out from the top, and so did Mad-Eye.   
  
  
    Sparks flickered from the tent’s lights, and it finally dawned on the audience members that perhaps this was not part of the routine. They left, screaming.   
  
  
    Hermione ran over to where Harry’s friends were tied up and began to undo their restraints. Ron grinned.  
  
  
    “Told you she fancies me,” he bragged.  
  
  
    Meanwhile, Harry was bending over Moody to make sure his mentor was okay. Pettigrew took advantage of the hero’s distraction to yank the cape off his shoulders, and wrapped it around himself.  
  
  
    “Imagine that,” the murderer mused. “After all these years, it fits like a glove.” He turned to where Hermione was still cutting Sirius and the others loose. “Daddy’s girl!” He wrapped the cape around her waist and pulled her towards him.   
  
  
    “Do you know why I was in prison? I killed a woman. I had to; you see--”  
  
  
    “Don’t you ever shut up?” the Cape interrupted him, as he grabbed the Worm by the shoulders and turned him away from Orwell. Harry landed a punch on the murderer and Pettigrew released his hold on Hermione, in favor of pushing the hero back.  
  
  
    Harry grabbed onto the cape and Pettigrew held firm.  
  
  
    “Do you see this?” the Worm asked. “See how the cape acts as a tensile muscle, as an extension of my body? It’s like a snake’s tail.” As Pettigrew spoke, Harry pulled himself closer to the killer, adjusting his grip on the spider silk fabric as he went. Finally, he was close enough to wrap the cape around Pettigrew’s throat and squeeze.  
  
  
    “What happens when the snake swallows his tail?” Harry asked as the Worm sank first to his knees, then to the floor, losing consciousness. When he was out, Harry removed the cape from the villain’s neck and shoulders.  
  
  
    Moody, who had recovered from the attempted drowning, approached Harry.  
  
  
    “What are you going to do with him?” the magician asked.  
  
  
    “Throw him in the river?” Ron asked.  
  
  
    “It’s what he would do to you,” Moody told Potter.  
  
  
    “That’s what makes me different from him,” Harry responded as he looked at the unconscious contortionist. “Do you think Owl Island can hold him?”  
  
  
    “No prison can, for long. He’ll be back.”  
  
  
    “Then he’ll have to answer to me,” the Cape replied. Head held high, he marched out of the tent, his partner at his side.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    That night, Harry found Orwell taking photos at the train yard where he had been captured.   
  
  
    “They’re rounding them up,” Hermione explained to Harry, nodding towards the ARK troops arresting the vagrants. “Anyone and everyone that might have seen something the night ‘Chess’ was ‘killed’ is being shipped out of state.” Harry’s lips thinned. He held out his hand for the camera.  
  
  
    “May I?” he asked. Orwell handed it over. He lifted it to his face, zoomed in on Blaise Zabini carting someone away, and started snapping pictures.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The next day, Ginny was at her desk when her office phone rang. She picked it up.  
  
  
    “Hello?”  
  
  
    “Ginny, it’s Malfoy. We looked into it. There was nothing there.” Ginny’s face fell. It was a dead-end. There was no evidence that would show that her husband had been framed.  
  
  
    “Oh. Right, then, I guess my client was crazy, after all…”  
  
  
    “Ginny…”  
  
  
    “I’ll be okay. Thank you, Malfoy,” she said, before replacing the receiver in its cradle. Damn it! She had been so certain that she had been onto something! What was that sound?  
  
  
    She craned her neck. Someone had slipped something under her office door. She got up and opened the door to see who was there, but whoever it was had already left; odd. She picked the manila envelope up off the floor as she went back inside her office. She opened it and stifled a gasp at the contents:  Photos of ARK guards rounding up men and women at the freight yard and something else.  
  
  
    There was a note enclosed. On plain white paper, someone had typed: “Don’t lose hope. Never lose hope.”  
  
  
    Hadn’t that been a line from those comic books Al loved?  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    It was dark as Al, wearing his dad’s old army jacket, attacked the punching bag he’d set up on the roof of the apartment building.  
  
  
    “That’s a good form you have there,” a voice called. Al looked up to see the Cape crouching on the ledge of the roof.  
  
  
    “You’re back. I didn’t think you were coming back,” Al said. After he had been going to the roof night after night, with no sign of his hero, he’d begun to think he wouldn’t see him again. Worse, he’d begun to wonder if his mum was right, and he’d just imagined the whole encounter in the first place.  
  
  
    “Didn’t I tell you I’d be back?” the Cape rasped. Al shook his head. Oh, well he’d meant to.  
  
  
    “I heard you were fighting at school,” the vigilante continued.  
  
  
    “How did you know that?” Al asked, his green eyes wide.  
  
  
    “I’ve been keeping an eye on you. You want to talk to me about the fighting?”  
  
  
    “They were saying things about my dad. They said he was Chess--”  
  
  
    “You know that’s not true, right?” Harry interrupted him. His son nodded.  
  
  
    “I know.”  
  
  
    “You know the Cape motto? One man--”  
  
  
    “One fight,” Al continued.  
  
  
    “One right,” the masked man finished.  
  
  
    “Do you really say that to people?” Al asked, skeptically.  
  
  
    “Yeah, you know. Some of the time,” the man replied. “You know, in my comics, I lost my family.”  
  
  
    “That really happened?” Al asked. The Cape nodded, tears in his green eyes.  
  
  
    “And I know that sometimes it can be _so_ difficult, but listen to me: Your dad didn’t get those medals,” he gestured to the ones on the jacket, “for fighting. He got them for valor, for keeping a cool head. So you remember that the next time you wear them.”  
  
  
    Al glanced down at the medals, pondering those words as Harry made his exit.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    While Harry was visiting with his son, another father sat in ARK Tower, his back to his floor-to-ceiling windows. Severus Snape opened the music box that had been his daughter’s. Inside, the figure of a ballerina twirled around, reminding him of his ballerina, his daughter.  
  
  
    He had no idea that across town, his daughter, Hermione, was practicing the same aerial routine Tonks had performed the previous day, just as he had no idea she was the blogger he had assassins looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s right. In this story Orwell’s real name is Hermione Snape. But you knew that already, didn’t you?
> 
> Thank you to Dragomir for beta-ing!
> 
> Thus ends episode three. If you’re interested in reading the crossover version of episode four, you know what to do.


	9. Goldilocks Part One: All-Aboard

Gilderoy Lockhart stood with two of his minions on the docks as ARK Corporation’s limousine pulled up. He was expecting Severus Snape to step out, and was disappointed when he saw Vernon Dursley instead. After gritting his teeth, Goldilocks put on a forced smile.  
  
  
    “Good day. You know, I was expecting to meet with Severus Snape--”  
  
  
    “Yeah, well, he’s having his hair cut this afternoon. Had to prioritize, you understand,” Dursley replied.  
  
  
    “Quite,” Gilderoy said, clenching his fist inside his jacket pocket.  
  
  
    “Mr. Snape appreciates what you’ve been doing here at the docks with the, ah, Longshoremen’s Union,” Vernon cast a dubious look at the men behind Goldilocks. “He’s sent me to tell you that from now on ARK will be providing security for the shipments, for a price, of course.”  
  
  
    “Now wait just one second!” Goldilocks’ smile had finally disappeared. “I object! That was not our arrangement. You tell Snape that my operation does not need ARK’s assistance in--”  
  
  
    “The arrangement’s changed,” Vernon interrupted, his face starting to turn purple. “Mr. Snape doesn’t care about your objections, neither do I, and neither does ARK. Got it, Goldilocks?”  
  
  
    “You’ve just made a mistake, Dursley, is it? You just made sure that I’m going to remember you.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    One of Goldilocks’ minions met with the Cape later that day. The vigilante handed him cash in exchange for a digital recording.  
  
  
    “The price is going up next time,” Zacharias Smith warned. “Do you know how much trouble I’d be in if Goldilocks caught me?”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Back at his hideout, Harry sat listening to the recording with Orwell.  
  
  
     _“He’s sent me to tell you that from now on ARK will be providing security for the shipments…”  
_  
  
    “My god!” Harry shook his head. “Snape’s got big ones. As Chess, he charges Goldilocks half of what he makes smuggling, and now he’s going to collect half of what’s left for ARK!  
  
  
    “You have the little spy camera, the whatjamacallit--?”  
  
  
    “It’s right here, and I’m hiding it in the feathers,” Hermione explained as she concealed the device in the feathered mask she would be wearing later.  
  
  
    “In the feathers?” Harry’s eyes widened.   
  
  
    “Are you questioning my camera placement?” Hermione demanded. “You do _not_ want to question my camera placement.”  
  
  
    “If I’m Severus Snape and I see a camera poking out of those feathers, I’m going to shoot you.”  
  
  
    “Well, why don’t you just shoot me now, then? What’s gotten into you?”  
  
  
    “Nothing, it’s just,” Harry sighed. “Today’s Al’s birthday.”  
  
  
    “Birthdays aren’t that special,” Hermione tried to comfort her friend.  
  
  
    “They are when you’re ten,” Harry countered.  
  
  
    “Are we sulking or suiting up?” Orwell asked.  
  
  
    “Both,” Harry said, pouting.  
  
  
    “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Hermione said softly, before withdrawing from the room.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The Cape returned to the docks. After knocking Smith down to the ground, he picked up the man’s cell phone and tossed it to another of Goldilocks’ minions.  
  
  
    “Call the Ken doll,” he ordered.  
  
  
    The call was made, and eventually Goldilocks arrived at the warehouse.  
  
  
    “You interrupted me during dinner,” the smuggler frowned, his usual smile absent. “I was having lamb chops. I _like_ lamb chops.”  
  
  
    “Are you a king or a pawn, Lockhart?” the Cape called to him from his perch atop a pile of crates.  
  
  
    “What are you talking about? Neither, I’m a businessman.”  
  
  
    “Severus Snape thinks you’re a pawn, or should I say _Chess_ thinks you’re a pawn?” Goldilocks’ eyes narrowed.  
  
  
    “What are you on about? Chess is deceased.”  
  
  
    “Is he? Think about it. Harry Potter was supposed to be Chess. They say they found bank accounts and eye-witness accounts. The case was wrapped up nice and neatly, but you ask yourself: Who owns the media in this town? Who owns the police force that ‘investigated’ the case?  
  
  
    “You were moving L-9 on the docks with Chess _after_ Potter was killed,” Harry went on. “The cop was a patsy. They set him up to take the fall.   
  
  
    “Severus Snape is Chess. You’re paying the same man twice.” At this, Goldilocks’ men gasped, outraged.  
  
  
    “If I want financial advice, I’ll talk to my accountant, not to some nut who thinks he’s Robin.” Goldilocks replied dryly.   
  
  
    “Suit yourself. Just thought you’d like to talk to Snape about it on the train later.”  
  
  
    “Stop making me ask you questions,” Gilderoy said, narrowing his eyes. “What train?”  
  
  
    “Don’t tell me you don’t know about tonight’s gala aboard the Monte Carlo?” The Cape faked surprise. “Big event; Snape will be there with the mayor and other hot-shots, gambling for charity.  
  
  
    “You know why you didn’t know about the gala, Goldilocks? Because Snape doesn’t take you seriously. No one will ever see you as anything more than a ditzy blonde.”  
  
  
    “Watch your tone. Robins don’t fly too well with their wings clipped.” The Cape rolled his eyes.  
  
  
    “How witty,” he sarcastically rasped, before disappearing in a puff of smoke. The corner of Goldilocks’ lips twitched.  
  
  
    “Clever little bird, isn’t he?”  
  
  
INSERT THEME MUSIC  
  
  
    At Trolley Park, Sirius and Ron were in Mad-Eye’s trailer, making plans with their leader when Harry flung open the door.  
  
  
    “Don’t you ever knock, Potter?” Mad-Eye asked, as they hurriedly stashed a piece of paper away.  
  
  
    “Sorry. Mad-Eye, I need you to give me back-up tonight--”  
  
  
    “Back-up? What, you think we’re your Merry Men?” Ron asked. Sirius opened his mouth, but Mad-Eye cut him off before he could say anything.  
  
  
    “Sorry, Potter. Can’t do; our dance card is full this evening.” Harry’s mentor hustled him out the door, and then slammed it behind him.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Severus Snape waved to the cameras, Draco Malfoy by his side. Snape was wearing a white cowboy suit, complete with a matching cowboy hat on top of his head, a faux badge marking him as the sheriff, and a couple of real guns in his holsters.  
  
  
    “I look like an escaped mental patient,” he complained to Malfoy out of the corner of his mouth, even as he continued to smile for the press. Why was he wearing white? He _never_ wore white; couldn’t he at least have gotten a black costume for the masquerade? “Remind me to fire the idiot in Public Relations that came up with this idea.”  
  
  
    “Sir, the public still has its doubts about you and ARK. Seeing you as sheriff, with your white hat and your guns, it reassures people, helps them see you as a man with a sense of humor.”  
  
  
    “I don’t _have_ a sense of humor,” Snape pointed out.  
  
  
    “No law that says you can’t lie about that,” Malfoy returned.  
  
  
    “ _The Monte Carlo departs in fifteen minutes,”_ a voice announced.  
  
  
    Harry, in his civilian clothes, watched the scene from a distance. Snape wasn’t the only one dressed up. The gala was a masquerade party, with a heroes and villains theme. The fugitive caught sight of one man dressed in an old-fashioned constable’s uniform, holding his little girl on his hip. The picture made Harry feel nostalgic. Just last year he’d been with Al on his birthday…  
  
  
 _Flashback_  
  
  
    “Today, class, we have a visitor,” Al’s teacher announced, “Al’s father, Detective Harry Potter. Do you have any questions for him?”  
  
  
    “Why do you wear black?” one child called out, looking at Harry’s uniform.  
  
  
    “Why do we wear black?” Harry repeated.  
  
  
    “Because that way criminals won’t see you at night,” Al called out.  
  
  
    “That’s right,” Harry said, smiling.  
  
  
    “What gun do you carry?” another student asked. Harry named the semi-automatic that was standard issue for officers in the Palm City Police Department.  
  
  
    “Are you going to catch Chess?” Al asked. His classmates gasped. They didn’t like to say the villain’s name aloud. Harry smiled proudly at his son.  
  
  
    “Yes, we will. But in the meantime, I want all of you to keep your doors locked and never let in strangers. Can you promise me that?”  
  
  
    “Yes,” the class chorused. Harry approached his son’s desk and bent down.  
  
  
    “Happy birthday, deputy,” he said, before bumping fists with Al.  
  
  
 _End flashback_  
  
  
    Ginny Potter refrained from bashing her head against the steering wheel of her car--barely. She picked up her cell phone and dialed her boss.  
  
  
    “Remus?”  
  
  
    “That’s my name,” Lupin replied.  
  
  
    “You still up for going over depositions with me tonight?”  
  
  
    “Yes, I’m nearly at your place now.”  
  
  
    “Damn, I’m stuck in horrendous traffic. The cake place was a mess. Al will have to let you in, but he’s super-conscientious about not letting in strangers. I’ll have to call him and--” Ginny’s phone beeped before the battery died. She stared at it. Damn it! Now how would she call Al?  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Remus rang the doorbell of the Potter apartment. Al put a phone book in front of the door and stood on top of it to look out of the peephole.  
  
  
    “Hi, Al! I’m Remus. Did your mum call and tell you I was coming?” Al shook his head. “No, huh? Well, you remember me from your mum’s office, right?”  
  
  
    “Nope.”  
  
  
    “Oh! I forgot! It’s your birthday--your mum told me that. Happy Birthday!”  
  
  
    “You could have googled me,” Al said, unimpressed.  
  
  
    “You’re not going to let me in, are you?” Remus asked. Al shook his head again.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
    “Severus, my friend!” Goldilocks suddenly appeared at Snape’s side, beaming from ear to ear. Snape narrowed his eyes a fraction.  
  
  
    “What are you doing here?” he asked.  
  
  
    “I know that you’re Chess. Smile, or in five seconds they will, too,” Gilderoy replied, nodding towards the cameras. Obligingly, Snape smiled as Goldilocks posed with him for pictures.  
  
  
    “What do you want?” Snape asked.  
  
  
    “Sev! You’re going to introduce the mayor to his new supplier for the city’s development projects.”  
  
  
    “You?”  
  
  
    “Me, Sev.”  
  
  
    “Stop calling me Sev.”  
  
  
    “Would you prefer Chess?” Goldilocks grinned. “Come on. One more for the cameras, Sev!” The photographers’ cameras flashed until finally Goldilocks and his men boarded the train with Snape.  
  
  
    A tall, freckled man wearing a conductor’s uniform stepped off the train for a moment to check his pocket watch. Harry got a good look at the man and cursed. It was Ron, and he was armed with a .38. _Shite!_  
  
  
    Dance card was full tonight, huh? The Carnival was planning on holding up the train. This was totally going to ruin Harry’s plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus begins episode four, Goldilocks on a Train (well, not the original title, but you know). Thoughts? Looking forward to Snarry? Feeling sorry for poor Lupin?
> 
> As usual, this chapter has been beta’d by Dragomir.


	10. Goldilocks Part Two: A Proper Villain

No one noticed when the Cape dropped into one of the cars on the Monte Carlo.  For once the vigilante didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, as the gala was a masquerade.  He made his way through the crowd of people to where he saw his partner, Orwell, standing. Hermione was wearing the feathered mask she’d hidden her camera in. Harry greeted her and murmured (an unnecessary) reminder for her to make sure that when Goldilocks denounced Snape, she would get it on tape.  
  
  
    Then he continued on and was almost out of the car when someone else caught his eye: Neville Longbottom, Secretary of Prisons, was dressed up as the Cape. They stopped and stared at each other for a moment.  
  
  
    “Longbottom? You’re supposed to be…me?”  
  
  
    “Yeah, alright? You know, the theme was heroes and villains, and you kind of made an impression on me, saving my life…”  
  
  
    “I know, I just… I’ve never had a fan before,” Harry admitted. “I like the utility belt,” he commented.  
  
  
    “Thanks,” Neville said, shifting his feet. Then a thought occurred to him. “Hey, what are you doing on this train?”  
  
  
    Harry stepped past Longbottom and opened the door to the conductor’s compartment. As he feared, the real conductor was slumped on the floor, unconscious, but at least still alive.   
  
  
    The Cape gritted his teeth before answering his friend.  
  
  
    “I’m working.” With that, he left the car, Longbottom on his heels.  
  
  
    “Wait! What’s going on? I want to help you!” The Cape hesitated.  
  
  
    “Look, just keep an eye out for a tall guy wearing a conductor’s uniform. He’ll be armed with a .38. If you come across him, be careful: He’s gangly, but he’s mean.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Severus Snape led Gilderoy Lockhart to where Mayor Cornelius Fudge was sitting, dressed as a villain from an old silent movie. The woman sitting next to the mayor at the bar greeted Snape.  
  
  
    “Hello, Severus!”  
  
  
    “Good evening, Judge McGonagall.” Snape introduced her to Lockhart.  
  
  
    “Nice robes, your majesty,” Lockhart complimented Minerva on her Cleopatra costume.  
  
  
    “Thank you, and may I commend you on your costume, as well. Are you supposed to be Adonis?” Lockhart’s smile faltered.  
  
  
    “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not wearing a costume.”  
  
  
    “Mayor Fudge, this is Gilderoy Lockhart,” Snape interrupted. “Lockhart is the head of the Longshoremen’s Union. You may know that he is also in the construction business. I’ll let him work his magic.” Hoping that would appease the git, Snape withdrew.  
  
  
    Goldilocks beamed at the mayor.  
  
  
    “I’m also in the real estate business. Tell me, how much do you currently pay for copper pipe? I pay sixty a ton and can give you a great deal.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The Cape walked through another car of the train, passing more people in costumes, including one dressed as the Grim Reaper. In between two cars, he came face to face with Ron.  
  
  
    “Where’s Mad-Eye?” Harry demanded. “I need to talk with him.”  
  
  
    “Back off, Harry,” Ron warned, a hand reaching towards his weapon. “Don’t make me use this.”  
  
  
    “Ron, damn it, you can’t hold up this train! This is my chance! Goldilocks is going to out Snape as Chess…”  
  
  
    “I’m sorry, Harry. It’s nothing personal.” Ron’s statement was followed by a flash of light in front of Harry’s eyes courtesy of someone who had come up behind him. That someone turned out to be Sirius, whose costume was that of a guard at Buckingham palace.  
  
  
    “Didn’t I tell you not to get cocky?” Sirius asked. A door opened and Neville stepped through it, drawing Sirius’ attention. “And you’re next, if you don’t mind your own business.”  
  
  
    With that, Ron and Sirius went into one car, as Neville helped the disoriented Cape into another and over to a seat.  
  
  
    “Are you hurt? Let me get you some water,” the concerned secretary said before dashing away. Alone, Harry’s vision swam. He could just make out a poster across from him that was supposed to depict the Sierra Mountains. Hmm. He’d taken Al out camping in the mountains for his eighth birthday…  
  
  
 _Flashback_  
  
  
    Grinning, Harry raced Al to the sleeping bags in front of the campfire. They called it a tie, and then Al’s expression became pensive.  
  
  
    “Dad, the parents of one of my friends are getting a divorce, and the father’s moving all the way to Wyoming. He’ll hardly get to see him anymore!”  
  
  
    “And you’re worried something like that will happen to our family?” Harry asked. He’d like to guarantee Al that he and Ginny would be together forever. It was certainly possible; he loved Ginny with all of his heart, but perhaps that’s what Mr. Moving to Wyoming once said about his wife. Maybe he shouldn’t make a promise that he might not be able to keep…  
  
  
    “No,” Al said, shaking his head. He knew how crazy his parents were about each other. They weren’t ever splitting up, but still… “But what if I had to go somewhere, like on a long journey by myself and I didn’t know which way to go? What would I do?”  
  
  
    “Well, you don’t need a compass,” Harry said, reassuring his son. “You’ve got me.” Al smiled.  
  
  
 _End Flashback_  
  
  
    Al looked up from his homework, frowning.  
  
  
    “Hey, Robert?” he called out.  
  
  
    “The name’s Remus,” Lupin corrected him from where he was squatting out in the hallway, making notes on a legal pad.  
  
  
    “You’re a lawyer, right, Robert?” Al asked from the other side of the locked door.  
  
  
    “I’m a defense attorney,” Lupin replied, trying to remain patient. “At the moment, I’m a very uncomfortable defense attorney.”  
  
  
    “Say the police think you did something bad: What would you have to do to prove you’re innocent?”  
  
  
    “You wouldn’t. The burden is on the government to prove your guilt. You’re presumed innocent and nothing can take that presumption away.” Al brightened.  
  
  
    “Really?”  
  
  
    “Really.”  
  
  
    “So,” Al unlocked the door and held it open enough to poke his head out, “technically, I mean, legally, my dad is innocent?” Lupin nodded.  
  
  
    “That’s right,” he said and started to rise to his feet, only for Al to recede into the apartment and slam the door behind him. Merlin! He really would have to wait out in the hallway until Ginny got home, wouldn’t he?  
  
  
    A moment later, a fruit roll-up was tossed to him through a window over the door. He caught the peace offering and started unwrapping the candy.  
  
  
    “Thank you!”  
  
  
    “You’re welcome.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The Cape had recovered his equilibrium and was gone by the time Neville returned with the glass of water. Harry had gone in search of Orwell, to make sure she stuck to Snape and that he, in turn, would stick to Goldilocks.  
  
  
    At the moment, Severus Snape was beginning an interview in a car full of reporters. Hermione pushed her way through to the front.  
  
  
    “Now there’s no need for pushing and shoving, this isn’t a wrestling match,” Snape drawled before turning concerned eyes to the young woman in the feathered mask. “Are you alright, miss?”  
  
  
    “I’m fine,” Hermione murmured, and then backed up a bit. Standing this close to her father was making her feel uneasy. What if he recognized her?  
  
  
    “Mr. Snape, why did ARK Corporation choose to become the private police force for Palm City?” a reporter called out.  
  
  
    “Let’s get one thing straight: ARK didn’t choose Palm City; Palm City chose ARK. Since the privatization, crime is down two hundred percent, citizens report feeling safer--”  
  
  
    “That’s because of the sweeps!” Hermione interrupted her father. “You’re rounding up anyone who even looks suspicious and detaining them illegally in hidden facilities!”  
  
  
    “Sounds like someone’s been reading Orwell Is Watching,” Severus addressed the crowd of reporters, even as his mind started whirling. “Word to the wise, there’s a lot of misinformation on there.” The mysterious girl turned and started to make her way back through the crowd and out of the car.  
  
  
    “Looks like she’s gone to report to her friend, Orwell,” the billionaire added, while deciding to cut the press conference short. “Excuse me.” He needed to follow that woman. She looked familiar and her voice had sounded like… but that was impossible…  
  
  
    He followed the woman through the train until he lost her in the car where he had left Goldilocks talking to the mayor. It didn’t look as if the conversation was going well.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Neville Longbottom finally caught up to the Cape between two cars. The vigilante was looking through the window and appeared to be watching a confrontation.  
  
  
    “What’s going on?” Neville asked, reaching for the door handle.  
  
  
    “Wait! Give it a minute. I want to see how this unfolds.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “Best of all, no tax,” Goldilocks finished his spiel with a wink and a flash of his dimples. The mayor shook his head and started to move away, but Lockhart wouldn’t let him and grabbed his arm. “What’s the matter?”  
  
  
    “What you are suggesting is illegal,” Mayor Fudge said point-blank.  
  
  
    “Is there a problem here?” Snape asked the mayor.  
  
  
    “Yes, there is. Mr. Snape, this man may be a friend of yours, but--”  
  
  
    “He’s no friend of mine. If he’s bothering you, I’ll have him escorted off the train at the next station.”  
  
  
    “You would dare?!” Lockhart demanded. Snape inclined his head in the affirmative. “Okay, fine! If that’s the way you want it-- your majesty, mayor, EVERYONE!” All the heads in the car turned towards Goldilocks. “Your hero, here, Severus Snape, is in reality the notorious murderer known as Chess!” There was a moment of silence. During the pause, Snape’s heart clenched and out in the hallway, Harry’s soared.  
  
  
    Then the mayor, Judge McGonagall, and the bystanders in the car all started laughing. Snape was quick to join in. The fools thought that Goldilocks was joking or completely mad; perfect!  
  
  
    While the laughter was music to Severus’ ears, it infuriated Goldilocks, who pulled out a gun and fired a warning shot. That shut up the stupid snobs.  
  
  
    “You want a villain?” Goldilocks murmured. “I’LL GIVE YOU A PROPER VILLAIN! This is a hold-up. We want your cash and your jewelry, and we’ll start with you, your majesty,” he nodded to McGonagall. The woman frowned and undid the clasp of her necklace.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “We’ve got to do something!” Neville exclaimed.  
  
  
    “ _We_ don’t. I’ll take care of it and you can hide under a chair,” the Cape insisted.  
  
  
    “No way; you’re not doing this without me.” Harry frowned. Longbottom could complicate things. Maybe a little help wouldn’t be too bad.  
  
  
    “Alright, fine,” Harry handed Longbottom a pistol. “Don’t shoot unless you absolutely need to. Go on; I’m ten seconds behind you!”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The door flew open and Longbottom stood in the entrance, holding up the pistol.  
  
  
    “I am the Secretary of Prisons and I am off the reservation, people!” Neville called, hoping he struck an impressive figure. True to his word, the Cape followed him into the car.  
  
  
    Snape glanced between the Cape and the Cape-wannabe.  
  
  
    “Dear Merlin, they’re multiplying!”  
  
  
    While Snape began worrying about his sanity, the Cape convinced Goldilocks that they should take this outside and the two left the car. Or rather, Goldilocks tried fleeing the car, giving his loot to his minions to carry, and climbed onto the top of the train with the Cape in hot pursuit.  
  
  
    Sadly, before Harry could use the cape against the villain, Goldilocks started beating the snot out of him.  
  
  
    “Let me give you a bit of advice,” the criminal warned Harry. “Heroes don’t always win in the real world.  
  
  
    “And now, let’s see if you can fly, blackbird.” With that, he tried to heave the Cape off the roof of the train, but the vigilante gripped the side tightly. He glanced down, just in time to see the Grim Reaper he’d passed earlier take off his mask. It was Moody. Harry’s eyes widened.  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye! Help me!” he pleaded. Moody just shook his head before following the minions that were carrying the stolen goods. Hadn’t he taught the boy anything about constant vigilance? Potter hadn’t given the ‘Grim Reaper’ a second glance before.  
  
  
    Harry felt hurt and betrayed…and a bit worried that his fingers were going to give out as he scrambled for purchase.  
  
  
    Unconcerned about the fate of the hero, Goldilocks climbed down off the roof. Snape was ready for him. He pulled a weapon out of a holster. The sheriff costume looked ridiculous, but it did have its advantages.  
  
  
    “You realize, this means war,” Snape drawled. Goldilocks wasn’t sure whether the maniac meant because he had held up the train, or because he had denounced him as Chess; he suspected it was the latter.  
  
  
    “Then I guess we’re at war,” Gilderoy replied. His own weapon trained on Chess, he gestured for one of his men to decouple the caboose, which they were on, from the rest of the train. The distance between the two villains widened as the caboose began slowing to a stop.  
  
  
    Snape replaced the weapon into his holster as the caboose disappeared from sight. This wasn’t over…  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Hermione finally found Harry.  
  
  
    “Where have you been?” she demanded.  
  
  
    “Oh, just clinging to the side of the train by my thumbs, you?”  
  
  
    “Speaking with the conductor,” who had thankfully regained consciousness. She brought Harry over to speak with the man. “Tell him what you told me.”  
  
  
    “The brakes failed when the caboose decoupled. The train’s a runaway. You can stop it, but you’d have to cut the brake hose.”  
  
  
    “Which is located where?” Harry asked.  
  
  
    “Underneath the train, near the wheels.” Harry stared at the man. Seriously?  
  
  
    “Well, can you cut it?”  
  
  
    “Do you think I’m mental?” the conductor asked. Harry sighed. Great; just great. Well, this looked like a job for the Cape, except that it looked like he would need help… Was he really going to do what he was about to do?  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Apparently, yes. The Cape entered the car Severus Snape and his men had retreated to. Several guns were quickly pointed at Harry, including one held by Snape himself.  
  
  
    “Well, well, Cape; we do keep running into each other, don’t we?”  
  
  
    “Take it easy. We’re on a runaway train.” That elicited gasps from a few people. “The train can be stopped, but it’s a two-person job, so we’re going to need to work together, right, Sheriff?” Snape narrowed his eyes, but put his gun down.  
  
  
    “Right.” He started by ditching the stupid hat. _Why had he worn it this long?_ Then he followed the vigilante out of the car.  
  
  
    “Now,” the Cape began, “we’re going to have to cut the--”  
  
  
    “The brake hose, I know. I’m a mechanical engineer, remember?”  
  
  
    “Er, right.”  
  
  
    “I’ll lower you down and you can cut it,” Snape suggested. The Cape shook his head.  
  
  
    “No way. You’re the engineer. I’ll lower you down.” Snape’s lips curved upwards into a smile--probably the first genuine smile he’d had all day.  
  
  
    “You’re right. More fun that way.” The Cape held onto Severus Snape as he started lowering the bastard underneath the train. Between the angle and the wind whipping past, Harry’s hood fell off, revealing his messy black hair. The only thing preserving his secret identity was his mask.  
  
  
    Severus stared at the Cape’s face. The younger man looked so familiar, but he just couldn’t place him…  
  
  
    “Who are you?” he shouted.  
  
  
 _Flashback_  
  
  
    Chess was holding the Cape over the side of the ship and threatening him.  
  
  
    " _I will find out who you are, I will find out who you love, and I will make them scream," the villain hissed.  
  
  
End Flashback_  
  
  
    “Just cut the damn hose, Snape!”  
  
  
    “Tell me who you are or I won’t cut it!”  
  
  
    “I have a better idea: Cut the damn hose or I drop you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, did you guys want to read more? Well, you’ll have to let me know, won’t you?
> 
> So Snape and Harry are teaming up. What could possibly go wrong?
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to Dragomir for beta-ing the chapter.


	11. Goldilocks Part Three: No Journey Too Far

Before Snape could get into a staring contest with the Cape, both men looked up, alarmed at the approaching light and noise--another train was coming on the track adjacent to them.  
  
  
    With the Cape’s help, Snape dove underneath the Monte Carlo where he would be safe just as the other train whizzed past. That was a close one. A few seconds’ difference and he might have been decapitated.  
  
  
    The danger now out of the way, Severus chuckled and got to work. He shone a flashlight around as he located the brake hose and then accidentally dropped the light before he could cut it. Oh well. He didn’t need the flashlight that badly. He sawed away at the brake hose; there: He’d done it.   
  
  
    The Cape lifted him back up and Severus sat down there between two of the cars and laughed.  
  
  
    “You’re finally learning how the game is played,” he told his adversary, grinning. For some reason, the vigilante took offense to that.   
  
  
    Harry hauled Snape to his feet and shoved him up against the side of one of the cars.  
  
  
    “This is _not_ a game,” the hero hissed, his body pressed against the villain’s. “Sooner or later, I am going to _destroy_ you. You’re not as smart as you think you are,” he finished before heading inside and leaving Snape alone.  
  
  
    “God, I wish you were right,” Severus said wistfully, though his opponent wasn’t there to hear him. Others might not give him credit for it, but he was smart. Severus was fairly certain that that was his daughter angrily hurling accusations at him earlier. But worse, he knew that he was attracted to the man that had just threatened to drop him underneath the train and still vowed to destroy him.  
  
  
    This just wasn’t his day.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Goldilocks was going through the loot he had stolen when three men barged into the stationary caboose, catching him off-guard. He recognized one of them, the one with only one good eye, who was holding a rifle on him. He was the one that had been captured and tortured for Chess and apparently, he recognized Goldilocks, too.  
  
  
    “You insufferable twit! Do you know I had to have bullets taken out of three different muscles after our last encounter? I’m allergic to anesthesia,” Mad-Eye growled, “and all that got me through the surgery was a shot of whiskey and thinking about what I would do to you when I got the chance. Now get into that cage,” Moody ordered, nodding to the one in the corner of the car and keeping the weapon pointed at the smuggler. Lockhart frowned.  
  
  
    “But it looks filthy and--” Moody pumped the rifle and Gilderoy shut up and got into the cage, before the freckled-one locked him in. Goldilocks recognized him, too.  
  
  
    “I see you didn’t take my advice about the skin care products. Didn’t you hit me with a crowbar once?”  
  
  
    “Yeah, apparently not hard enough,” Ron spat. _What a tosser._ He picked up the bag of stolen goods and followed Sirius and Mad-Eye out of the caboose, leaving Goldilocks behind.  
  
  
    Gilderoy tried throwing his body against the bars of the cage to get them to give and only succeeded in hurting himself. Okay, that plan wasn’t going to work. Wait a minute…  
  
  
    He plucked a nail file out of a jacket pocket and set to work….  
  
  
    Finally, he got the cage open and walked out. Then he noticed someone else was in the caboose with him, someone who was just regaining consciousness. He looked familiar…  
  
  
    “I remember you!” Gilderoy exclaimed. It was that man Snape had sent in his stead: Dursley. Goldilocks drew back his fist and started swinging at Dursley.  
  
  
    Vernon, desperate to defend himself, glanced around and noticed a crowbar lying nearby. He grabbed it and hit his attacker, knocking Goldilocks out cold.  
  
  
    When the smuggler eventually came to, Vernon was long gone and there was a gap in his memory. The last thing he remembered was that odious person in a mask, whatever his handle was, telling him that Severus Snape was Chess…  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry, having changed out of his costume, walked into Moody’s room and approached the desk where the thief was counting the stolen cash.  
  
  
    “You know I realized tonight that you make a living by cheating others out of their hard-earned money,” Harry said, laying a hand on Mad-Eye’s arm to get him to stop counting and pay him attention. Moody’s glare made him drop his hand, which he then leaned on top of the desk.  
  
  
    “And this is news to you?” the magician demanded. Potter knew from the beginning who he was associating with.  
  
  
    “No, but… What does ‘the Cape’ mean to you? What do you want it to be?”  
  
  
    “It doesn’t matter what I want. You’re the Cape; that’s up to you.”  
  
  
    “Do you realize that sooner or later, what I believe in and what you believe in, are going to put us on opposite ends of a loaded gun?” Potter pressed him.  
  
  
    “Well, that day will be interesting. In the meantime…” he gestured for the former cop to quit bugging him and leave.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Lupin was relieved when Ginny finally arrived back at the apartment and let him in, but she hardly paid him any mind. Thanks to that stupid traffic jam, she’d missed almost all of Al’s birthday. After putting the cake box down on a table, she rushed straight over to her son and hugged him.  
  
  
    “Oh, Al! I’m so sorry! I’m no good at this.”  
  
  
    “At what?” the boy asked.  
  
  
    “I don’t know.” _Time management; remembering to charge my cell phone; being a single parent,_ she thought. “I bought you an ice-cream cake, but it’s all melted by now,” she apologized. Al took it in stride. Once, a melted cake might have seemed like the end of the world, but not now. Not after what he’d been through this year. He turned to his mum’s boss.  
  
  
    “Hey, Robert, you want some milkshake cake?” Lupin smiled.  
  
  
    “Sure, give me some of that milkshake cake.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Back at Harry’s hideout, he and Hermione sat sipping butterbeer.  
  
  
    “I was off my game tonight,” she admitted. “I blame the feathers,” because it was easier than blaming the proximity to her father.  
  
  
    “I do, too,” Harry smiled at his partner and then took another swig from his bottle. He sighed. “Goldilocks announced in front of a room full of witnesses that Snape is Chess and they didn’t believe him. This was all for nothing!”   
  
  
    “Harry, it wasn’t for nothing,” Orwell corrected him. “You’ve got Chess and Goldilocks at war with each other; the Secretary of Prisons wants to be your Tonto; and, oh yeah, you saved hundreds of lives tonight.”  
  
  
    Harry shrugged before returning his attention to the wrapping paper in front of him.  
  
  
    “All that happened and you’re still here wrapping a birthday present for your son. Why do parents love their children like that?” she asked.  
  
  
    “I don’t know; they just do,” Harry replied. The blogger bit her lip.  
  
  
    “Do you think that anything could ever make that love go away?” she asked, thinking about the father she’d narrowly avoided earlier in the evening. Harry looked up, his green eyes pinning her brown ones.  
  
  
    “No,” he stated firmly. Hermione tried not to think about the implications of that, of how that meant that despite everything, despite the villain her father was, he still loved her. She tried to keep the conversation on Harry and his son.  
  
  
    “Well, next year you’ll be at home celebrating Al’s birthday with him,” she assured him. Harry tried not to grimace. Perhaps people would never learn not to make promises they couldn’t keep.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The morning after his birthday, Al woke up early. He swore he had heard a noise by the window. He got up and pulled back the curtains. Sure enough, there was a gift lying on the fire escape. He unwrapped it: It was a compass, still in its store packaging and there was a card with it. He read the inscription.  
  
  
    “No journey too far, your friend, the Cape.” Al exhaled slowly. His father must have told the Cape about their conversation on the camping trip. The child understood the symbolism of the gift, which was meant to tide him over until he could be reunited with his father.  
  
  
    He doubted the hero would still be lurking around since the sun had already risen, but he climbed out onto the fire escape anyway and scanned the horizon. Somewhere out there was his hero, but better yet, somewhere out there was his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Dragomir, dem bones, and Orwell for reviewing! And thanks to Dragomir for beta-ing.
> 
> I realize that other readers may have some of the same questions dem bones raised. However, in the interests of keeping this note to a manageable length, I am not going to delve into the answers here. I will, though, be happy to answer questions to the best of my ability.
> 
> For instance, is the one-sided Snarry a deviation from canon? Debatable. We’re not actually privy to the billionaire’s thoughts during the episode, so how can we know for sure? (That’s my argument and I’m sticking to it.)
> 
> I’m not sure whether this was unclear, but just so there can be no mistake: Al is convinced that his father is alive. So his thinking about being reunited with his father has nothing to do with a life after death. 
> 
> Anybody looking forward to “Dice”?


	12. Dice Part One: Our Fate Is Fixed

(ARK facility, 100 miles outside of Palm City, 10 years ago)  
  
  
    A preadolescent girl kneels in the center of her bedroom, playing with a pair of dice. Her room is pink and full of toys other girls her age might play with; it could be the bedroom of any normal twelve-year-old girl, that is, if it didn’t have a viewing platform over it and cameras installed to watch her day and night.  
  
  
    Little Luna Lovegood is not a normal twelve-year-old girl. She can see what number she’s going to roll before she does and calls it every time. Her daddy knows this. Her daddy is watching her.  
  
  
    “Luna is a savant,” Xenophilius Lovegood explains to his employer, Severus Snape. Both men are watching Luna on a monitor. “Most savants have different skills, such as eidetic, or photographic, memory. But Luna’s one of a kind. Her skill is in probability. She breaks down her world--the world--into quantum mechanics. Basically, she can see the future.” On the monitor, Luna turns around to face the camera briefly, before going back to the dice.  
  
  
    “She knows that we’re watching her,” Mr. Lovegood adds.   
  
  
    “No offense, Xenophilius, but your daughter is rather creepy,” Severus observes.  
  
  
    “Well, like many savants, Luna has trouble relating to other people. She exhibits some sociopathic tendencies.  
  
  
    “We’re mapping her brain,” the proud father adds. “She’s going to bring us into the future.”  
  
  
    “I’d like to meet her,” Snape states. The command is unmistakable and Lovegood takes Snape to the viewing platform that looks over Luna’s room. The child’s back is still to them, as it was to the cameras, as she continues to correctly predict how the dice will roll.  
  
  
    “Luna, I’d like you to meet someone. This is Severus Snape, daddy’s boss. Can you say hello to Mr. Snape?” Luna doesn’t answer; she just keeps playing.  
  
  
    “Hello Luna,” Severus calls to the child, as he leans over the railing. “You’re a very special girl.” Finally, the girl turns around. Her face is quite serene as she speaks to him.  
  
  
    “You’re the one,” she states calmly. Snape looks puzzled. “The one who is going to kill my father,” she adds matter-of-factly.  
  
  
    “LUNA!” Xenophilius cries. He is appalled that his daughter would say such a thing.  
  
  
    “Only if you go over budget,” Snape jokes, trying to defuse the tension. Xenophilius doesn’t know it, but Snape _has_ killed before, fairly recently, in fact. It’s quite possible Luna is making an accurate prediction. She’s not finished, yet.  
  
  
    “And then,” she adds, her lips curving up into a smile, “I’m going to kill _you.”_  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
(Palm City, today)  
  
  
    Severus Snape stood on stage before an audience, a screen behind him.  
  
  
    “What if you could predict the future?” he asked. “How different would your life be if you knew what was going to happen a week from now, or even five minutes from now? We’ve already seen data mining technology, but this is the quantum leap.  
  
  
    “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you L.U.N.A.!” On the screen behind him, the full name of the LUNA module was spelled out: Lucid Understanding Nostradamus Analyzer.  
  
  
    “Now,” Snape continued, “I asked L.U.N.A. what stock is most likely to jump in the next five minutes. LUNA told me it was this Asian Corporation,” Snape projected the stock information on the screen and then pressed another button. “I just bought a million shares.  
  
  
    “LUNA’s predictions are based on probabilities so high, they are indistinguishable from fact. The LUNA module will put an end to corporate espionage. You will know the mind of your opponent before he does.” The screen behind Snape changed to reflect that the price of the CTBT stock went up two hundred percent since he purchased the shares. Snape glanced at it and smiled.  
  
  
    “I just doubled my money on the CTBT shares. Thank you, LUNA!  
  
  
    “If you are a competitor, now is the time to drop your sword and join us. Quite simply, ARK has patented the future,” Snape concluded. The audience cheered and gave him a standing ovation.  
  
  
    Snape didn’t notice that one woman in the audience remained in her seat. She wore a pendant of a pair of dice around her neck and stared into space with a placid expression. ARK didn’t patent the future; it patented her brain, but that didn’t bother her too much.  
  
  
    Soon she would kill the man that murdered daddy.  
  
  
INSERT THEME MUSIC  
  
  
    “I got my first case,” Ginny Potter told her son over dinner. “Well, cases, I’ve got a stack about this high,” she gestured with her hands.  
  
  
    “Mum, can I be excused?” Al asked. Ginny frowned. Al’s plate was still full of food. Guess he wasn’t that hungry. She nodded.  
  
  
    “Sure.” Al took his plate into the kitchen before heading to his room. Suddenly no longer hungry herself, Ginny followed his example and took her own plate to the kitchen.  
  
  
    She didn’t know that the Cape--her husband---was perched on the rooftop opposite her apartment building, gazing at her as she stood at the open kitchen window. Tears formed in Harry’s green eyes before he used the cape to do an escape trick. The sudden displacement of air left in Harry’s wake shattered the plate Ginny had been washing.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Back at his hideout, Harry took off his mask. His eyes fell upon the bundle on his table. There was a note on top.  
  
  
    “ _I got you what you asked for. You owe me, Orwell.”_  
  
  
    Harry opened the package. Inside were files. He flipped through the police records and the photos stared back at him: Potter, Harry James; Moody, Alastor; Weasley, Ronald; Black, Sirius Orion; Tonks, Nymphadora.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    At Trolley Park, Sirius cackled as he read from the file.   
  
  
    “‘Witnesses say the suspect walked up to them, opened his trench coat, and flashed them.’”  
  
  
    “I got off on a technicality,” Ron muttered, his cheeks turning red as he remembered the incident. Sirius put down Ron’s file and picked up Tonks’.   
  
  
    “Ah. ‘Witnesses say the suspect’s raccoon made off with the victim’s purse and then defecated in it…’” Tonks burst into giggles.  
  
  
    “I miss Lollipop!” she exclaimed, remembering the raccoon, as Ron tossed the files into a garbage can.  
  
  
    “Well, let’s light a candle in memory of Lollipop,” Mad-Eye said. Using one of his magician’s tricks, he waved his fingers at the trash can and the files inside burst into flame. He took a swig from his flask, and then eyed Potter sitting around, looking morose.  
  
  
    “This was the agreement,” the codger reminded his pupil. “We help you, you help us. Quid pro quo.”  
  
  
    “I know; I just don’t have to like it,” Potter muttered.  
  
  
    “But burning your records is different?”  
  
  
    “The difference is: I was innocent. You actually did those things,” Harry pointed out. “You know, I watched my family eating dinner tonight. They’re suffering without me, but I’m not dead!  
  
  
    “This isn’t my life,” he said, gesturing around him.  
  
  
    “You’re just Alice and you fell down the Rabbit Hole,” Mad-Eye replied.  
  
  
    “I shouldn’t even have been working that night,” Harry murmured, thinking back to the night his world had been turned upside down.  
  
  
 _Flashback_  
  
  
    Harry tried to extricate himself from the bed without waking Ginny, who was tangled around him, but it was no use.  
  
  
    “Where are you going?” she asked. Her eyes were halfway open.  
  
  
    “I’m just going to do a little work,” Harry answered her.  
  
  
    “You’re supposed to be with me now,” Ginny pouted.  
  
  
    “I’ll only be five minutes,” Harry promised the redhead. “Go back to sleep.”  
  
  
    “No,” Ginny murmured sleepily, “I’ll stay awake ‘till you get back…” Harry shook his head as he stood up. It looked like Ginny had already fallen asleep again. Quietly, he made his way over to his computer and set to work.  
  
  
     _The screen flashed and the logo from Orwell's blog filled the monitor. A mechanically distorted voice, presumably belonging to the blogger, issued from the speakers._  
  
  
 _"Sorry to hear you're going to work for ARK, Potter…”  
_  
  
 _End Flashback  
_  
  
    “So that’s what’s bothering you,” Moody concluded as he and his apprentice entered Potter’s hideout. “You think it was an accident that you got Orwell’s message that night and you wonder whether fate would have left you alone, let you live your normal life if you’d just stayed in bed.”  
  
  
    “And what’s the answer?” Harry asked, as he fingered a picture of Ginny and Al.  
  
  
    “Well, a fortune cookie once told me that: ‘Our fate is fixed. It is our destiny we must grasp.’”  
  
  
    “That’s pretty good,” Harry said, as he taped the photograph to his bulletin board “I usually just get lottery numbers.”  
  
  
    “Speaking of numbers, I’m going to go play mine,” the magician said, before taking his leave.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Severus Snape smiled as he entered the floor of the casino.  
  
  
    “Enjoy yourselves! You each have $1,000 credit, courtesy of ARK,” the billionaire called out. The announcement was met with cheers from the gamblers. Snape made his way to one of the tables to do a little gambling himself.  
  
  
    A young blond woman at the table caught his eye. She was wearing a shimmering golden dress that nicely showcased her legs and her cleavage. If Severus’ head wasn’t still full of thoughts of the mysterious Cape, he might have been interested. Perhaps not noticing his disinterest, the woman approached him as he picked up the dice.  
  
  
    “Seven,” she said cheerfully.  
  
  
    “I beg your pardon?” Snape asked.  
  
  
    “You’re going to roll a seven,” she said, trying to make her voice sound a bit solemn this time. Severus rolled the dice. Sure enough, one came up four, and the other came up three.  
  
  
    “How did you…?”  
  
  
    “Nine,” she interrupted him, smirking. Snape frowned and rolled again. This time one came up six, and the other three.  
  
  
    “Do I know you?” Snape’s black eyes bored into her large blue ones. She smiled, but ignored the question.  
  
  
    “Just roll the dice, Severus. NO, wait!” she grabbed the dice out of his hands.  
  
  
    “What are you doing?”   
  
  
    “They were covered in nargles,” she said by way of explanation. _Nargles?_ Snape’s eye twitched.  
  
  
    “Can I have those back?” he asked, holding out a hand for the dice.  
  
  
    “You didn’t say the magic word,” she said in a sing-song voice that was really starting to get on his nerves.  
  
  
    “Please?” She shook her head.  
  
  
    “Dice!” she corrected him.  
  
  
    “Dice,” Snape repeated and finally Luna handed him back the dice.  
  
  
    Snape rolled a six and then turned to see if the pesky brat was still there, but he didn’t see her, didn’t know she was already skipping out the doors of the casino. He stared at the dice he had just rolled. Something was wrong; they were glowing…  
  
  
    He jumped back just as they exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I changed the one-sided pairing for the fic, but can you blame me? Among other things, Snape/Luna would have interfered with the nice Snarry I’m aiming for.
> 
> Thank you to Dragomir for your assistance; D. gets credit for casting Luna as Dice and helping me refine the acronym for the L.U.N.A. module.
> 
> Do feel free to point out any errors in the chapter. You know I love to hear from readers.


	13. Dice Part Two: Funambulism

“Ten minutes until lights out,” Ginny told her son. Al looked up from his bed, where he was reading his comic book.  
  
  
    “Do you want me to read it to you?” Ginny offered. She knew that if Harry were here, he would read “The Cape” to Al. Al looked at her blankly for a moment, before putting his comic book aside and turning off his lamp.  
  
  
    “Okay, well, good night,” Ginny said, before closing the door behind her.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
 _Flashback  
_  
  
    “So, I’ll meet you there in half an hour,” Harry said into his phone.  
  
  
  _“Are you sure you want to do this tonight?”_ Malfoy asked on the other end.  
  
  
    “I have to. If they’re moving weapons, they might not be there in the morning.”  
  
  
 _“Well, don’t tell anyone else about this, okay, Potter?”  
_  
  
    “Malfoy, who would I tell?” Harry hung up the phone and prepared to head to the train yards to investigate the blogger’s tip. Before he could leave, he was accosted by Al.  
  
  
    “Dad, where are you going?”  
  
  
    “I got a call from work. I’ve got to go,” Harry told his son.  
  
  
    “What? No, let’s finish the Monopoly game,” Al pleaded. They had had their family game night earlier in the evening and the board game was still set up on the living room table.  
  
  
    “We are _not_ going to play Monopoly at 3:30 in the morning,” Harry replied.  
  
  
    “Hang on,” Al said. “If I roll a ten, you can go, but if I roll anything else, you have to stay,” he proposed, picking up the dice from the game.  
  
  
    “Al, I am not going to make that deal--”  
  
  
    The kid ignored him and rolled the dice. Two fives came up.  
  
  
    “Aw, man!”  
  
  
    “Go back to bed, Al. I’ll come home soon,” Harry promised.  
  
  
 _End Flashback_  
  
  
    “But I never did,” Harry murmured. He tacked another photo onto the murder board in his cave. Moody was right; dwelling on the past wouldn’t help him get home. If he wanted to do that, he had to be able to pin one of Chess’ crimes on Severus Snape.  
  
  
    Orwell entered the hideout, her computer in tow.  
  
  
    “Harry, you’ve got to see this,” Hermione said. She set up the laptop and pulled up footage of the explosion in the casino, the one that had nearly killed her father.  
  
  
    “Run that again,” Harry said. Ah, watching Severus Snape almost getting blown to bits was fun. Not as much fun as if Snape had gotten blown to smithereens, but still…  
  
  
    His partner didn’t seem amused, though, and was intent on focusing on footage of the woman who had set off the blast.  
  
  
    “She accessed the most secure rooms in the casino. Take a look at this,” Hermione said, playing a clip of Dice walking into an off-limits area just as the guards were changing. “It’s like she walks between the raindrops. Like she knows where people will be, where they’ll be looking.”  
  
  
    “Wait, pause there,” Harry instructed. The face was familiar. “I know her. Where have I seen her? Wait,” he fumbled through some papers on the table and pulled out a file with a photograph of the would-be assassin.   
  
  
    “Her name’s Luna Lovegood,” Harry dove back into the file and plucked out another picture, one that showed Xenophilius Lovegood’s body sprawled on the floor, his blonde hair and distinctive necklace askew. “Her father was one of Chess’ first victims. We were talking to her last year, trying to do a follow-up on the case, but she wasn’t cooperating with the investigation.”  
  
  
    “I guess she wanted to take justice into her own hands,” Orwell spat.  
  
  
    “Good for her,” Harry nodded in approval. “Taking a shot at Severus Snape: That’s exactly what I should have done.”  
  
  
    Hermione felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. That was her father Harry was talking about; her dad that this lunatic was trying to kill. She got to her feet and snatched up her laptop.  
  
  
    “You know what? If that’s your attitude, I’m wasting my time here,” she said, her voice bordering on the hysterical. “Clearly I can’t help you.”  
  
  
    “What are you talking about?” Harry asked, confused by his friend’s behavior. What had he said? Surely the fact that he wanted to see Snape dead wasn’t news to her. Snape had ruined his life.  
  
  
    Hermione paused by the door and took several deep breaths, trying to get her emotions under control. She had to remain professional. Harry didn’t know that she was Snape’s daughter, and she wasn’t going to risk him finding out.  
  
  
    “Harry, think about it. You just told me that Lovegood’s father was killed by Chess. Tonight she tried to kill Snape.  
  
  
    “Don’t you see? She knows that Snape is Chess. She could help you prove it, but if Snape dies, the truth dies with him and you’ll never be able to go home.” Harry’s eyes widened.  
  
  
    “Wait, are you saying that I need to protect Snape?”  
  
  
    “Only if you want to go back to your family.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The next day, Severus Snape had a house call from Dr. Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore was his personal therapist/physician. (The old man, having diverse interests and enough time to pursue them, had been certified in medicine and psychiatry.) Right now, he held a stethoscope to the billionaire’s chest, checking his cardiovascular system.  
  
  
    “Breathe deeply,” he instructed his patient, who complied. “Have you been experiencing any dizziness, nausea or headaches?”  
  
  
    “No,” Snape shook his head.  
  
  
    “Have you had any visits from our old friend?” Albus asked. Severus stiffened.   
  
  
    “No, I haven’t,” he replied, his tone growing frosty.  
  
  
    “I only ask because in times of stress, it’s quite natural to rely on old friends and you have been under a bit of stress lately. An industrial tycoon branching out into police work--”  
  
  
    “I said I haven’t heard from him, Albus!” Dumbledore put away the stethoscope and picked up a tuning device to check Snape’s hearing.  
  
  
    “I’m not here to judge you, Severus.” Snape relaxed. No need to be terse with Albus. He trusted the good doctor implicitly. Dumbledore was the only one he confided his secrets to.  
  
  
    “Well?” Snape asked.  
  
  
    “Fit as a fiddle,” the doctor pronounced.   
  
  
    “Albus,” Severus began, thinking of the Cape, “I’ve met a man.” The therapist’s eyes twinkled.  
  
  
    “You do lead an exciting life, Severus.”  
  
  
    Just then, Draco Malfoy entered the room.   
  
  
    “Mr. Snape, that woman never should have gotten so close to you.”  
  
  
    “Whose fault is it that she did?” Snape asked coolly. Draco resisted the urge to squirm under that gaze and ignored the question.  
  
  
    “We found her.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry, in his civilian clothes, accompanied by Orwell, approached the apartment door. Bracing himself, he kicked the door open and the two went inside.  
  
  
    “It’s leased to Luna Lovegood,” Hermione informed him. “She’s not trying to hide.” They looked at the walls. Lovegood had papered them with newspaper clippings about the L.U.N.A. module ARK was launching. Harry glanced at the headlines.  
  
  
    “So this device, how does it work?” he asked. “I ask it what color shirt I’m going to where next Tuesday and it tells me blue?”  
  
  
    “Or someone else might ask it: Who is the Cape?” Harry clenched his hands. He hadn’t thought of that.  
  
  
    “Will they get an answer?”  
  
  
    “Eventually,” Orwell replied.   
  
  
    On a mirror, Lovegood had written in lipstick. She had crossed out Einstein’s quote, “God does not play dice,” and added a quote of her own: “GOD IS THE DICE.”  
  
  
    Yep, they were definitely dealing with a lunatic, Hermione mused, and then froze as a gun was pressed to her temple. Lovegood had appeared out of nowhere.  
  
  
    “Snape sent you?” Luna asked, her expression serene as always, even with her finger on the trigger.  
  
  
    “No, calm down. We’re on the same side,” Harry said, holding out his hands in a placating manner.  
  
  
    “Tell that to my front door,” Luna replied in a sing-song voice. Friends wouldn’t have kicked her door down.   
  
  
    “Look, we want to bring Snape down, too, but killing him isn’t the answer,” Harry insisted.  
  
  
    “You say that because you don’t understand the question,” the woman replied. Taking her finger off the trigger, Luna used the butt of the gun to smack the brunette woman in the head before running out of her apartment.   
  
  
    Harry hurried towards Orwell, wanting to make sure she was okay, but his partner waved him off.  
  
  
    “Just go after her!” Hermione ordered him, as she clutched her aching head. He ran after Luna and caught up to her in the building’s boiler room.  
  
  
    “I didn’t see you coming,” Luna called to him. “You must be in my blind-spot. I like that; it reminds me that I’m not God. I have visions.” Calmly, she fired a shot at one of the pipes, and steam started issuing from it. Fortunately, the steam wasn’t hitting Harry, but it did keep him from collaring her.  
  
  
    “In the sixteenth century, I would have been burned as a witch, you know. But it’s not sorcery, it’s numbers, and it’s beautiful. And Snape is twisting it into something ugly.  
  
  
    “I’ve got to go now,” she said, almost absently. “My ride is here.” She lowered the gun to the ground and raised her hands above her head as ARK officers surrounded her.  
  
  
    Harry hid in the shadows as she was carted away and then snuck back to Luna’s apartment, where Orwell was still studying the walls.  
  
  
    “Lovegood was just arrested,” Harry told her.  
  
  
    “She knew they were coming,” Hermione said. She looked at something Luna had tacked to the wall. A piece of paper read: “The Violin; 1 p.m.” “She’s going to try to kill him at the Violin restaurant.” Harry glanced at his watch; it was nearly a quarter to one. He turned to go.  
  
  
    “Where are you going?” Hermione asked.  
  
  
    “I move faster alone,” he replied, before hurrying off to change into his costume.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    The ARK officers escorted a handcuffed Luna Lovegood into the restaurant. Severus Snape was the only patron there, seated at a table underneath a large chandelier. He wanted to interrogate her before having her sent to Owl Island (or deciding to make other arrangements for her), but he saw no reason to postpone his lunch.  
  
  
    “Hello, Severus. I didn’t realize I was having lunch,” Luna said, smiling as one of the guards undid her handcuffs. She sat down across from him. “My compact is in my purse.”   
  
  
    Snape sighed. He really didn’t give a damn about her compact. Nevertheless, he gestured to one of his men to hand the woman the bloody purse.  
  
  
    She pulled out her mirror, ostensibly to check her reflection, but deliberately angled it so that the light reflected off of it would shine into the eyes of the bar tender, disorienting him enough to drop the tray he was holding. When Snape wasn’t looking, she casually picked a coin out of her purse and let it start rolling on the floor. Her plan was now set into motion. She smiled and put away her compact.  
  
  
    “There; much better,” she said.  
  
  
    “Now, who are you?” Snape demanded.  
  
  
    “I’m disappointed that you don’t recognize me, Severus. After all, you patented my brain.” Snape’s black eyes widened.  
  
  
    “Luna Lovegood?” She shook her head.  
  
  
    “I don’t go by that name anymore.”  
  
  
    “Then what should I call you?”  
  
  
    “Don’t you remember the magic word?”  
  
  
    “Ah, Dice,” Severus recalled. “You know, Dice, I see life almost like a--”  
  
  
    “Like a game of chess?” she supplied. Snape’s gaze became calculating. She knew who he was.  
  
  
    “I see our cards are on the table. Yes, Dice, I killed your father. I can’t change that. What is it you want from me?”  
  
  
    “I want the L.U.N.A. module,” Dice replied.  
  
  
    “Is that all?” Snape smirked. He snapped his fingers and one of his men handed him the module. He passed the device to Dice and saw, to his satisfaction, that she looked surprised.  
  
  
    “Keep it. What, you thought that was the only copy? The L.U.N.A. module goes into mass-production in two days. By next year, it will be as common as the household toaster.”  
  
  
    Lovegood didn’t reply. She knew Snape was caught in her trap; he just didn’t realize it, yet. In the supply room, the coin Dice had dropped rolled right into the foot of the bar tender who had gone to dispose of the tray he’d dropped. As he stooped to pick it up, the handle of a mop got knocked down and set off the tap at the sink…  
  
  
    Meanwhile, the Cape raced across the rooftops to get across town to the restaurant. He entered through the back and breezed through the kitchen to get to his destination.  
  
  
    The only warning Snape had was Dice’s abrupt departure from the table. Moments later the heavy ornate chandelier dropped from the ceiling and was on course to make impact with Severus’ head…  
  
  
    But it never touched him. The Cape had pushed him out of the way at the last instant and was currently sprawled on top of him. Their faces were mere inches apart.  
  
  
    “My hero,” Severus drawled. “I never forget a favor, Cape.”  
  
  
    It suddenly struck Harry that he was very, very close to Snape, and he scrambled off of him and made a sprint for the door. The villain frowned and called after him.  
  
  
    “But in this case, I’m prepared to make an exception!”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “She got sloppy,” Hermione informed Harry later, as they stood in front of her computer in his hideout. “She passed in front of three security cameras after leaving the restaurant. Did you know that the average citizen in Palm City is caught on camera three hundred times a day, just going about her business?”  
  
  
    “No kidding,” Harry said. He gave her his _and-I-would-care-about-that-why?_ face.  
  
  
    “Right, well, she ended up on top of this building and stood here for two hours,” Hermione said, showing him Luna’s placid face on the screen.  
  
  
    “She stood there for two hours? Why?” Harry asked.  
  
  
    “Perhaps this angle will clear that up,” Hermione replied. She pressed a couple of buttons and switched to a different camera. Now Harry saw Luna’s back and that she was standing on a rooftop across from ARK Tower.  
  
  
    “She’s planning something,” Harry breathed.  
  
  
    “This was sent to me under one of my reporter aliases.” Orwell showed Harry an invitation to ARK Tower. “It’s to the launch of the L.U.N.A. module two days from now.”  
  
  
    “So that’s when she’s going to attack,” Harry realized. “That invitation gets you inside,” _but how do I get in?_  
  
  
    “Harry, security is going to be tight. No one without an invitation is going to be allowed on the same block. You might as well parachute in.”  
  
  
    “Parachute, huh?” That gave Harry an idea.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “Let me get this straight,” Moody said, taking another sip of whisky from his flask. “You want to walk on a tightrope two-hundred feet across, over forty stories up, and you have how long to prepare?”  
  
  
    “Forty-eight hours,” Harry replied.  
  
  
    “Forty-eight hours,” Moody repeated. “It takes _years_ to learn the art of funambulism, Potter!”  
  
  
    “Funambulism?” Harry repeated. Moody muttered something under his breath about Potter’s vocabulary.  
  
  
    “Why do you always bother me while I’m drinking?” he demanded, before taking another sip from his flask.  
  
  
    “’Cause you’re always drinking!” Harry replied without missing a beat.  
  
  
    Tonks and Sirius shared a glance.  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye,” Sirius began, “since Harry is likely to die in this endeavor anyway, Tonks and I would like to try something…” he trailed off.  
  
  
    “Experimental,” Tonks finished. Moody glanced at his comrades before giving Potter his advice.  
  
  
    “If I were you, I’d run like hell.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry didn’t heed Moody’s advice. He sat with Sirius, and let the hypnotist put him into a trance. In his mind, Harry saw himself, half-asleep, walking through the house he’d shared with Ginny.  
  
  
    “When you go to the kitchen for a glass of water in the middle of the night,” Sirius spoke, “you don’t bump into any walls, or any furniture, even if your eyes are closed. Your mind already knows the path and is focused on your goal. When you’re up on the tightrope, your eyes might see a forty-one story drop, but all your mind will see is a simple walk to the kitchen.”  
  
  
    Sirius thumped his hand down on the table and broke Harry out of his trance.  
  
  
    “It’s just a walk to the kitchen,” Harry said, relieved. The hypnotist nodded and sipped his tea. “But what if I look down, and I see a forty-one story drop?”  
  
  
    “Then Mad-Eye gets his cape back,” Sirius said between sips of his tea, “after a trip to the dry-cleaners.”  
  
  
     _Well, that’s reassuring._  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “The key to tightrope walking is balance,” Tonks called down to Harry. She was doing a split on a tightrope over his head. She straightened up. “Come on up.”  
  
  
    “Okay.” Harry climbed on.  
  
  
    “The key to balance,” Tonks continued, “is in your hips.” As she spoke, she put a hand on either side of Harry’s hips. “You can’t go anywhere without your hips, right?” Harry nodded and avoided looking anywhere near Tonks. “Okay, now Harry, put your hands on my hips.”  
  
  
    “WHAT?” he croaked out.  
  
  
    “Put your hands on my hips,” the aerialist repeated. Reluctantly, Harry did. He stared over her shoulder, to avoid having to look her in the face.  
  
  
    Ron walked into the room and approached them.  
  
  
    “No, no. Harry, you’re going to have other concerns when you’re out there. The wind is going to be awful. Here,” he started shaking the tightrope so it wobbled. Harry tensed and looked down.  
  
  
    “No, Harry, don’t look down. Look at my hips!” Tonks instructed him.  
  
  
    “I’m looking down,” Harry said, his eyes on the floor. He lost his balance and toppled over into a heap at Ron’s feet.  
  
  
    “She said hips, Harry,” Ron sighed. “HIPS!”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
(ARK Tower, L.U.N.A. Module Launch Party)  
  
  
    Hermione, dressed to the nines, approached the guard watching the security monitors at the desk in the lobby.  
  
  
    “Excuse me, I was looking for the,” she hit him with her tazer and he slumped over. “Sorry!” She started tapping into the system and then spoke into her headset.  
  
  
    “Harry, she’ll be here any minute. Where are you? Harry?”  
  
  
    The Cape stood on top of the high wire that stretched between ARK Tower and the roof of the building across from it, a balance beam in his hands.  
  
  
    “What part of ‘radio silence’ do you not understand?” Harry gritted out.  
  
  
     _“Don’t look down,”_ Orwell’s voice came over his headset.  
  
  
     _Easy for you to say,_ Harry thought, trying to take her advice. If he looked down now, he’d be dead…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual thanks to Dragomir for beta-ing.
> 
> So, while I did not originally see how Dumbledore would fit into this ‘verse, upon reflection I thought I’d see how he would work out in the shrink’s role.
> 
> What did you think? Did I successfully purge this section of the episode of one-sided Snape/Luna? Doesn’t it read better with one-sided Snarry?


	14. Dice Part Three: There Are No Accidents

“ _Harry, something’s wrong. I can’t find any bombs in the building!”_ Orwell’s frantic voice came over Harry’s headset. _So much for a walk to the kitchen._ He held tight to the balance beam in his hands and stared straight ahead as he gritted out a response.  
  
  
    “She can use the building as a bomb. Check for irregularities, system failures…”  
  
  
    Hermione took his advice, her fingers flying over the equipment.  
  
  
 _“Found it. There’s a gas leak in the main elevator…”_  
  
  
    Hermione paused as the guard she’d tazered earlier began to stir and zapped him again.  
  
  
     _“All it will take is one spark to set off an explosion and the elevator’s on its way up now. Can’t you move any faster?”  
_  
  
    “No, I can--” Harry broke off as he stumbled and lost his footing on the tightrope. He started to fall, but used the cape to grab hold of the high wire and dangled there, forty-one stories above the pavement. His balance beam had fallen out of his hands and made a sickening crash when it finally connected with the ground below, startling ARK security men who had been stationed nearby. That had been a close thing. If the beam had fallen on someone… _Ugh._ He didn’t want to think about it.  
  
  
    As it was, the ARK officers were naturally suspicious as to why a balance beam had fallen from the sky and they looked up. They started shouting when they spotted the notorious Cape. Harry winced. This was a really bad time to be dangling off of a tightrope, not that he could think of a good time for it…  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Severus Snape frowned as he saw Dice approach him.  
  
  
    “Hello, Severus!” She greeted him cheerfully, as if she hadn’t recently tried to kill him twice.  
  
  
    “Dice,” he acknowledged her curtly. “What are you doing here?”  
  
  
    “Fixing my mistake, of course. The Cape’s not here to save you this time, is he?”  
  
  
    “No, indeed.” Snape’s lips thinned. The little wretch was right. The vigilante was nowhere in sight. Well, he could damn well hold his own against a deranged witch. “Do you know what your problem is?”  
  
  
    “The wrackspurts in the room?”  
  
  
    “Poor Luna Lovegood: Deprived of a proper childhood; studied in a laboratory for half your life. Well, I have news for you: The blame for that lies with your dear father. Now, if you’ll excuse me a moment.” He walked to the center of the room and addressed the partygoers.  
  
  
    “Thank you for coming to celebrate the launch of the L.U.N.A. module. When I press this button,” he held up a device, “L.U.N.A. goes into mass production. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the future!” He pressed the button to applause. Lovegood, of course, wasn’t applauding, just staring at him, completely unfazed.  
  
  
    “Do not think,” Snape snarled at her as he came within earshot, “that coming here in a tight skirt is going to make me let my guard down. I’m not some hormonal teenager and the fact that you know what I’ve done means nothing. You have no proof and you can’t touch me. I’d advise you to leave before I have you thrown out!” Lovegood merely smiled in response, though she did head towards the elevators.  
  
  
    “It’s been fun playing with you, Severus. I’m almost sorry that it has to be this way. Oh well. Goodbye now.” As the elevator doors dinged open, she held up her cigarette lighter and started to flip it on… when suddenly it was snatched out of her hands by a cape.  
  
  
    “I’m sorry. I think I got inside your blind spot,” the vigilante called to her. The blonde simply shrugged and ducked into the staircase, leaving Harry to deal with Snape, who seemed to be devouring him with his eyes.  
  
  
    “Dating just isn’t as simple as it used to be,” Severus purred. Harry repressed a shiver.  
  
  
    “You need to evacuate the building. There’s going to be an explosion!” Harry warned him.  
  
  
    Snape frowned. Great; he had to help save people, _again_. This better not become a habit. Reluctantly, on the Cape’s insistence, he made an announcement to the crowd to have them exit ARK Tower--without using the main elevator. His bodyguards grabbed his arms to try to lead him to safety, but he shrugged them off and waved them away impatiently. He faced the superhero.  
  
  
    “How far is this going to set you back?” Harry asked Snape.  
  
  
    “Well, I’ve still got the designs for the L.U.N.A. module and the software. I’d estimate the destruction would delay the launch for a couple of years, set me back a few million dollars.” The Cape grinned.  
  
  
    “Send me the bill,” he quipped. Harry flicked the lighter on and tossed it into the open elevator, and then shoved Snape out of harm’s way and into the stairwell as the explosion went off.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Some stories lower in the building, Dice was running down the stairs when she ran straight into Hermione. The blogger shoved Lovegood up against the wall.  
  
  
    “Guess you have two blind spots,” she said. “Hope you enjoy Owl Island, bitch.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Back in the Potters’ apartment, Al walked into his mum’s room and found Ginny laying on the bed, crying. She sat up and brushed away her tears as he held the comic book out to her. He sat down next to his mother and she wrapped an arm around him.  
  
  
    “I’m really not as good at this as Dad was,” she apologized to him up front, before starting to read in a high pitched voice.  
  
  
     _“‘You’ll never catch me, Cape!’”  
_  
  
    “Mum,” Al interrupted her. “Don’t do the voices.”  
  
  
    “Right, sorry,” Ginny nodded before resuming in a more normal voice.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Mad-Eye found Harry beating up a punching bag in Trolley Park.  
  
  
    “Need to release some pent-up aggression?” the mentor asked.  
  
  
    “I just spent the last two days saving Snape’s life--TWICE!” Harry yelled, giving the punching bag one final jab. Moody offered him a glass of whisky, which he accepted. He downed the shot and then winced as it burned his throat.  
  
  
    “Why did this have to happen to me? I should’ve just gone back to bed that night. Bloody accident of fate!”  
  
  
 _Flashback_  
  
  
    “Mad-Eye!” Ron rushed into Moody’s trailer. “We just found some bloke in a mask in the tunnels underneath the train yards. He’s unconscious, might be hurt bad. Looks like there’s been some kind of accident.” Mad-Eye glanced down at the parchment spread out on his desk before replying to the redhead.  
  
  
    “Well, better bring him in, then.” After Ron rushed off, Moody flipped open the trunk sitting next to his desk. On top lay the spider silk cape. The magician fingered it before sitting back in his chair.  
  
  
    “There are no accidents.”  
  
  
 _End Flashback_  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Severus Snape stood at the window, looking out at the night from his penthouse. Then he felt something, heard something. He sensed he wasn’t alone and turned around.  
  
  
    “Who’s there?” The room was dark, but Snape spotted a chess game set up on his desk and moved towards the chair. “Yes; yes! Hello old friend!”  
  
  
    Chess sat down in his chair, smiling. His contacts were already on.  
  
  
    “Let’s play!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Snape is mental in this fic. Don’t tell me you’re just figuring that out?
> 
> I am pleased to announce that Dragomir, the beta, gave me the go ahead to post the original draft of the chapter as is. 
> 
> Questions about this chapter? Thoughts on any of it, for instance, the snarry? 
> 
> Anybody up for the TCK version of “Goggles & Hicks”?


	15. Fred & George Part One: Pleased To Meet You

_Afghanistan:_  
  
  
    A man stopped running and slumped against a wall. He looked out across the apparently desolate field and relaxed.  
  
  
 _New York City:  
_  
  
    Fred Weasley sat in his van, munching on fruit loops and watching computer monitors. He spoke into his headset, calling out a set of coordinates to his twin.  
  
  
 _Afghanistan:  
_  
  
    The sun shone down on the man. He was about to raise the canteen of water he held to his lips when a shot rang out. He looked around. The field still seemed to be deserted. He looked down, and noticed first that a bullet had pierced his canteen.  
  
  
    Only then did he realize the bullet had gone straight through the canteen and into his chest, where blood was welling up. Finally, death claimed him.  
  
  
    Across the field, George Weasley, camouflaged to perfectly blend into his surroundings, stood up and smiled.  
  
  
    “Pleased to meet you,” he said before tossing a tarot card onto the ground--the Chariot.  
  
  
 _100 Miles East of Palm City:_  
  
  
    Tarot assassins Fred and George stood near their van as a limousine approached. After it came to a halt, Chess stepped out to greet them. He was wearing one of the black suits Snape favored.  
  
  
    Chess held up a tarot card.  
  
  
    “The Chariot. You come highly recommended by your masters. You must be Fred and George.”  
  
  
    “We are. You must--”  
  
  
    “--be Snape.”  
  
  
    “Nice to meet you,” the twins said in unison.  
  
  
    “Actually--”  
  
  
    “--most of the people we meet--”  
  
  
    “…aside from clients…”  
  
  
    “we kill.” Chess smiled.  
  
  
    “Well then,” he said. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” He handed a comic book to Fred.  
  
  
    “‘The Cape’…”  
  
  
    “Issue 126...”  
  
  
    “Near mint condition…”  
  
  
    “Except for a crease in the back cover…”  
  
  
    “You want us to kill one of the writers?”  
  
  
    “Shame; they’ve been doing great work…”  
  
  
    “Still, a job’s a job…”  
  
  
    “We could use a pencil in the eye…”  
  
  
    “…It would be poetic…”  
  
  
    “You misunderstand me,” Chess cut in. “I don’t want you to kill one of the writers. I want you to kill the Cape.” The twins exchanged a look before turning to the villain.  
  
  
    “Oh, mate…”  
  
  
    “Fantasy…”  
  
  
    “…reality…”  
  
  
    “…blur, blur…”  
  
  
    “You don’t want to go there,” they said together.  
  
  
    “I’ve been there myself,” Fred added.  
  
  
    “Scary place,” George put in.  
  
  
    “The Cape isn’t real,” Fred patiently explained to Chess.  
  
  
    “It’s just a comic book,” George finished.  
  
  
    “I know that!” Chess exclaimed. “But there’s a masked menace running around my city that doesn’t. I want you to find him and kill him and bring me his cape. How long will it take?”  
  
  
    “Oh…”  
  
  
    “You don’t understand how we work!”  
  
  
    “We don’t just kill someone!”  
  
  
    “We have to study him first!”  
  
  
    “Track him…”  
  
  
    “Understand him inside…”  
  
  
    “…and out…”  
  
  
    “And when the time is right…”  
  
  
    “…we kill him.”  
  
  
    “And when will the time be right?” Chess asked.  
  
  
    “When it’s right,” the twins replied.  
  
  
    “Well, time is of the essence. I’ll pay you double if you kill him within the next twenty-four hours. So, I suggest that this time you concentrate more on results and less on style.”  
  
  
INSERT THEME MUSIC  
  
  
    Harry woke up in his bed at his hideout and groaned. He lifted his shirt to inspect the damage. It didn’t take an x-ray to figure out that he had a few broken ribs. Merlin, but they hurt. He crawled out of bed and searched for the painkillers. Then he glanced at his calendar. Apparently it was Saturday, September 3.  
  
  
    Harry walked over to the photograph of Ginny he had posted on the wall. Saturdays used to be relaxing…  
  
  
 _Flashback_  
  
  
    Harry walked into the kitchen, where his wife stood, wearing only a long shirt, getting ready to make breakfast. Ginny smiled.  
  
  
    “Good morning!”  
  
  
    “Good morning! Happy Saturday!” Harry lifted Ginny up onto the counter and kissed her.  
  
  
    “How do you like your eggs?” she asked after they parted.  
  
  
    “Fertilized,” Harry replied. Ginny’s smile grew.  
  
  
    “Really?”  
  
  
    “Absolutely. I think Al would like having a little brother.” And Harry would like to name a son after his father.  
  
  
    “Or a little sister,” Ginny returned.  
  
  
    “Or a sister,” Harry nodded. He started to kiss Ginny again when they heard the sound of a throat being cleared. The parents broke apart. Harry helped Ginny down off the counter as they turned to their nine-year-old son.  
  
  
    “I’ll forget this happened if you make pancakes for breakfast,” Al informed them with a straight face.  
  
  
    “Done and done,” Ginny replied, equally as solemn.  
  
  
    “And just so you know,” Al said, as he headed out of the kitchen, “I’d rather have an owl.”  
  
  
 _End Flashback_  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    At Trolley Park, Sirius was arguing with Mad-Eye.  
  
  
    “I don’t like having him around!”  
  
  
    “Harry’s not a cop anymore,” Mad-Eye replied.  
  
  
    “He’s worse than a cop! He’s the Cape! If I wanted to have someone criticize me for being a thief, I could go home and get that from my mother,” Sirius grumbled. Just then, Harry walked in.  
  
  
    “I hope I’m not interrupting something?”  
  
  
    “You’re just proving my point,” Sirius replied.  
  
  
    “Harry,” Ron called to him. “Since you’re here, maybe you could help us crack open this safe… I mean,” he faltered as he saw Mad-Eye gesturing to him to shut up. “Never mind.”  
  
  
    “What are you doing here, Potter?” Mad-Eye asked.  
  
  
    “I’m out of coffee,” Harry replied as he headed towards the gang’s coffeepot.  
  
  
    “Hold it!” Tonks called out. She walked from the safe over to Harry. “I know a sick animal when I see one. Lift your shirt,” she ordered.  
  
  
    “WHAT?!” Harry asked. Moody looked at Tonks, then at Potter.  
  
  
    “You heard her, Potter.” Reluctantly, Harry lifted up his shirt, revealing the black and blue of his broken ribs. After his friends saw the injury, he covered it up again.  
  
  
    “Potter,” Mad-Eye began.  
  
  
    “NO,” Harry interrupted him. “No leeches or any other crackpot remedies. I’ll be fine. I just need a painkiller and some coffee.”  
  
  
    “What you need is rest,” Moody countered. “Take a day off, Potter. You’re not a superhero; you’re a circus act. The human body was not meant to be pushed to its limits the way you have.  
  
  
    “You need to recuperate. You won’t do the city any good if you’re in no shape to fight.” Harry nodded. Moody was right. Rest sounded like a really good idea right now. He left the tent to head back to his hideout.  
  
  
    Meanwhile, Sirius had grabbed a crowbar to try to help Ron open the safe they had stolen. Mad-Eye walked up to his followers.  
  
  
    “Stand back,” he barked. He approached the safe and turned the handle and it opened, revealing a pile of cash.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “Fred, how are we going to find the Cape if we don’t know his secret identity?” George asked. They were sitting in their van, which was parked somewhere in Palm City.  
  
  
    “That’s simple,” Fred replied. “We use bait.”  
  
  
    “What bait?”  
  
  
    “Well, I’d like to use Snape…”  
  
  
    “But Snape’s the client,” George pointed out.  
  
  
    “Hence the problem. So, we’ll try using this bloke.” Fred pointed to Goldilocks in a photo taken with Snape the day of the gala on the Monte Carlo.  
  
  
    “But how do we dangle the smuggler in front of the Cape if we can’t reach him?” George asked.  
  
  
    “Apparently, the Cape is in tight with Orwell, the blogger.”  
  
  
    “Ah. So we get word to Orwell--”  
  
  
    “And the Cape should come running.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry had just collapsed onto his bed when Hermione burst into the room.  
  
  
    “Grab your cape, you’ve got work to do,” she called to him.  
  
  
    “It’s Saturday,” Harry called back without getting up. “Criminals sleep late on Saturdays.”  
  
  
    “Not all of them. Goldilocks sent me a message. Says he has information on Chess and he wants to make a deal with you.”  
  
  
    Harry rolled out of bed.  
  
  
    “A deal?”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Fred sat in the van, watching the monitors and munching on fruit loops. George was already stationed inside the cathedral.  
  
  
    “This is fun,” Fred spoke into his headset. “It’s like we’re the Secret Society and we’re hunting down the members of the Justice League, one by one.  
  
  
    “You know, that’s what’s wrong with this country. More people should watch Saturday morning cartoons. And have more sugar.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Goldilocks entered the cathedral with Zacharias Smith. The villain glanced at the stained glass windows and the statues.  
  
  
    “You know, Smith, I’ve had meetings in some dismal places before, but this takes the cake. Why did the Cape want to meet in a church? I believe in the firm separation of Church and Crime.”  
  
  
    “Maybe the Cape is a priest,” Smith suggested. “He does wear a hood.”  
  
  
    Suddenly, the Cape stepped out of the shadows.  
  
  
    “If you’re praying for your sins, I can come back in three to four years,” the vigilante quipped.  
  
  
    “You really need to work on your material, young man. Let’s get on with it.” There was a moment of silence, finally broken by the hero.  
  
  
    “So?”  
  
  
    “So?” Gilderoy repeated.  
  
  
    “What kind of deal did you want to make?”  
  
  
    “What? You’re the one that sent me a message saying you had a deal to offer me.”  
  
  
    “No, I didn’t.” Lockhart’s eyes narrowed.  
  
  
    “This smacks of a setup,” the smuggler said.  
  
  
    George aimed at the Cape and fired. The projectile bounced harmlessly off the spider silk fabric. Fred looked at the monitors and frowned.  
  
  
    “ _Where did you hit him?”_ he asked.  
  
  
    “In the shoulder,” George replied.  
  
  
   _“Well, it didn’t work. Shoot him again,”_ Fred ordered his twin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I can’t believe this is chapter 15. Project Quantum Leap, my longest fic to date, was fifteen chapters long. Just wow.
> 
> Thanks to Dragomir for serving as beta.
> 
> Be sure to let me know what you thought of the first part of the “Fred & George” version of episode 6. I realize using the twins as the tarot assassins puts a different spin on things, and yet it’s probably not the largest twist…


	16. Fred & George Part Two: The Cape’s Day Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to save this note for the end of the fic, but if the hiatus continues indefinitely, this will be the end of the fic. I'd like to welcome readers who are just being introduced to The Cape and encourage them to continue to explore the fandom. To wit, I think you should be able to jump in and read another fic in it without getting too lost. To help make that possible, I hereby offer a list of which character replaced which:
> 
> Harry Potter - Vince Faraday  
> Ginny Weasley Potter - Dana Faraday  
> Albus Potter - "Trip" Faraday  
> Hermione - Orwell, a.k.a. Jamie Fleming  
> Ron Weasley - Rollo  
> Gilderoy Lockhart - "Scales" Dominic Raoul  
> Severus Snape - Peter Fleming/Chess  
> Mad-Eye Moody - Max Malini  
> Draco Malfoy - Marty Voyt  
> Nymphadora Tonks - Raia  
> Sirius Black - Ruvi  
> Neville Longbottom - Patrick Portman  
> Fred Weasley - Goggles  
> George Weasley - Hicks  
> Minerva McGonagal - Judge Preston  
> Luna Lovegood - "Dice"  
> Remus Lupin - Travis Hall  
> Fenrir Greyback - "Cain"  
> Peter Pettigrew - Gregor, a.k.a. "Kozmo"  
> Blaise Zambini - Philips  
> Albus Dumbledore - Doctor Samuel  
> Vernon Dursley - Reese
> 
> Feel free to let me know if there are any questions.

George fired at the Cape again, and this time he hit his mark. Fred smiled as his monitor lit up with data.  
  
  
    Meanwhile, inside the church, all hell broke loose. Perhaps it was the sound of the shot or maybe the tension between the enemies had simply grown too heavy. Whatever it was, Smith swung at the vigilante, who deflected the blow and fought back. It wasn’t until after Goldilocks ordered Smith to follow him out of the cathedral that the Cape dropped his tough façade and clutched at his aching ribs.  
  
  
     _Why on earth had he let Orwell talk him into this?  
_  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Ginny walked into the kitchen of their apartment, where Al was eating breakfast.  
  
  
    “You’d better hurry up! You don’t want to be late for the first game of the season.”  
  
  
    “I’m not going,” Al informed his mother.  
  
  
    “What?” Since when had he lost interest in little league?  
  
  
    “The other kids hate me.”  
  
  
    “Honey, they just don’t know you. And they’re not going to get to know you if you stay home by yourself.”  
  
  
    “I’m not going,” he repeated.  
  
  
    “Yes, you are,” Ginny stated. Al knew the tone of voice meant that he really didn’t have a choice in the matter and sighed. His mum didn’t get it. The other kids just saw him as the son of Chess. Hanging out with them wouldn’t change that and it wasn’t as if he could explain his dad’s innocence--like they would really believe that he’d gotten the truth from a comic book character. Even mum didn’t believe that the Cape had visited him.  
  
  
    What he needed was proof of the vigilante’s existence, but that would have to wait until after the game.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Fred and George sat in their van as they kept one eye on the monitors that were feeding them data on their quarry.  
  
  
    “Can you believe this?”  
  
  
    “Low resting heart rate…”  
  
  
    “This guy is--”  
  
  
    “--In the best shape of all the targets we’ve ever had, I know…”  
  
  
    “…Except for a few broken ribs, but we can still…  
  
  
    “…Be really proud of this one…”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry and Hermione sat at a booth in the café, sipping coffee, and oblivious to the twin seated on a stool at the counter. Harry, as usual, was wearing his civilian outfit, complete with hoodie.  
  
  
    “I still don’t understand it. The message definitely came from Goldilocks. Perhaps the smuggler was trying to set a trap. I’ll do some digging and…”  
  
  
    “Orwell,” Harry cut off his partner. “What would you be doing if you had the day off?” She blinked in confusion.  
  
  
    “What would I do? I suppose I’d work on getting through another of ARK’s firewalls. I’ve gotten pretty far into their system already, but there are still more layers of security--”  
  
  
    “No, I mean, before you were Orwell, what would you do on a day off?”  
  
  
    “Who said I wasn’t always Orwell?” Hermione shot back at him. He stared back at her, unfazed, and she deflated.  
  
  
    “Alright, today’s what, Saturday? I’d be doing my nails,” the young woman confessed.  
  
  
    “I knew it!” Harry said, grinning. “I _knew_ you were a girly-girl at heart.”  
  
  
    “What about you?” the blogger asked. “If you weren’t the Cape, what would you do on a Saturday?”  
  
  
    “Sleep in. Play some ball with Al…” He stared past her for a moment, before looking her in the eye. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”  
  
  
    “What? You can’t do that!”  
  
  
    “I just did. Go get your nails done,” he told her, before standing up from the table.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry’s first order of business on his day off was to drop by the house he’d lived in with his family. He wasn’t sure if anyone was living there now. There was no for sale sign on the lawn, but neither were there any cars in the driveway. He stared at the house from across the street, remembering old times, before heading off to the ball field. This was the first day of little league season, which meant that his son had a game to play and there was no way he was going to miss it.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Of course, Harry was unaware that he’d been hit with a tracking device.  
  
  
    “Suspect seems fascinated by a particular property,” Fred remarked.  
  
  
    “Roger that. Checking the records of title,” George replied.  
  
  
    “There it is. House last owned by…”  
  
  
    “Harry James Potter…”  
  
  
    The twins stared at the screen, where they’d pulled up a photograph of Harry, and a headline about Chess dying in an explosion.  
  
  
    “Potter,” Fred repeated. They checked their surveillance video of the target. The Cape, in his civilian clothes, was currently hiding behind a tree at a little league game. One of the players on the field was wearing a jersey with the name Potter on the back.  
  
  
    “We’ve been hired…”  
  
  
    “…to kill a dead man.” The twins stared at each other, and then spoke in unison.  
  
  
    “Wicked!”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry stayed out of sight as the game drew to a close and Ginny embraced their son.  
  
  
    “How was it?” she asked.  
  
  
    “I don’t want to talk about it,” Al replied.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “So, how do you want to handle this one?” Fred asked. He looked at his twin and knew what he was going to say.  
  
  
    “Bumblebee.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Hermione stood with Harry as he bought a hot dog.  
  
  
    “So I took another look at the IP address. It was made to look as if it came from Goldilocks, but when I tried to trace it back…”  
  
  
    “The bottom line, please?”  
  
  
    “Someone set you up,” Hermione admitted. “I couldn’t find the origin of the signal. Whoever it was, he’s good at covering his tracks. And I don’t say that lightly.” They sat down on a bench that looked out on the beach.  
  
  
    “How’s your day off going?” she asked. He smiled.  
  
  
    “It’s been pretty good, actually. I watched Al’s baseball game…”  
  
  
    Hermione looked up as a noise grew louder and her eyes grew wide. A small remote control drone was heading their way. It didn’t look friendly.  
  
  
    “Harry, RUN!” He took off, his partner on his heels.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “Gotcha now, Mr. Cape.” George pressed a button on his remote and fired. The blast struck the space Harry had been occupying a second or two earlier.  
  
  
    “Relax. Just have fun with it,” Fred told his brother.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry and Hermione ran through the park and into a tunnel underneath a bridge. The “Bumblebee” drone hovered outside. It would lose the signal if it went in the tunnel.  
  
  
    “Somebody’s after you,” Hermione pointed out.  
  
  
    “Or after you,” Harry replied. “The only way to find out which of us is the target is to split up.” Orwell nodded.  
  
  
    “You’re right. Ready?”  
  
  
    “Ready.”  
  
  
    They ran out of the tunnel and headed in different directions. The drone took off after Harry. The hero pounded down street after street, finally turning down an alley. It was a dead end.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
    “Excellent!” Fred cried.  
  
  
    “He has nowhere to go!” George smirked.  
  
  
    “Take your time,” Fred encouraged his brother. “He’s not going anywhere.” Then he looked back at the monitors.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Harry had stripped out of his hoodie, revealing the cape he wore underneath. He turned and faced the drone. Grabbing a hold of the midnight blue fabric, he swung out and knocked the Bumblebee smack into a wall. No longer able to fly or shoot, it fell to the ground, crippled.  
  
  
    The twins stared in shock as Harry approached their toy, looking straight into the camera. He non-verbally gestured “I’m watching you,” before driving his fist into it, causing the screen to go blank.  
  
  
    Oh well. They still had other ways of watching Mister Cape.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Back at the apartment, Ginny was watching news on the television. They were showing footage from Snape’s latest press conference, announcing the new Chief of Police: Draco Malfoy. Ginny frowned as she shut off the set. She had quite a few words to say to Malfoy. The ferret had been avoiding her lately, but she’d be able to confront him at the party tonight.  
  
  
    She walked into Al’s room.  
  
  
    “Honey, I’m going to the party at the Malfoys’. Mrs. Figg will be down the hall if you need anything… What are you doing?”  
  
  
    “Video surveillance,” Al replied, as he fiddled with the camera. “The next time the Cape comes, I’m going to get him on tape.”  
  
  
    “I see.” So much for her hope that he would make real friends. “Alright, I’ll see you later.”  
  
  
    “Bye mum.” Al was setting the camera up by the window and was startled when a face smiled at him from the other side. Al jumped backwards.  
  
  
    “Hiya!” The boy climbed off of Al’s fire escape and into his room. “You’re doing that wrong, you know.”  
  
  
    “What?”  
  
  
    “Don’t worry; I can help you set it up.”  
  
  
    “Who are you?”  
  
  
    “Sorry. I’m Freddie.” Freddie Weasley was the spitting image of his namesake, except for the huge glasses he wore.  
  
  
    “Al,” he replied. Okay, so his dad had warned him not to talk to strangers, but he really doubted a boy his age was Chess.  
  
  
    “My mum and I moved into the building a few weeks ago,” the redhead told him. “I see you up on the roof all the time. Well, not all the time, just when you’re up there. What’s the surveillance equipment for?”  
  
  
    “Well…”  
  
  
    “Is it for Big Foot? Or faeries? I’ve found their droppings, you know.”  
  
  
    “What?”  
  
  
    “Yeah, I collected some of them and saved them in a jar. They turned white.”  
  
  
    Sounded more like bird droppings to Al…  
  
  
    “So, what’s the camera for?” Freddie pressed. Al went back to the window so he wouldn’t have to face the other boy as he answered.  
  
  
    “It’s for the Cape. He comes by here, sometimes.” He waited for Freddie to laugh at him. Instead, the other boy whistled.  
  
  
    “Wicked! I’ve never known anyone who knew a superhero before.” The boy grinned and Al found himself smiling back.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Ginny walked through the party until she located Draco.  
  
  
    “Hello, Malfoy.”  
  
  
    “Ginny, glad you could make it.”  
  
  
    “Why haven’t you returned my calls?”  
  
  
    “I’ve been busy. You know, I was just appointed Chief of Police.”  
  
  
    “You know my client, Fletcher, the one I told you about? He’s gone missing, along with all of the other people who were at the train yards the night that Harry was framed.”  
  
  
    “Ginny…”  
  
  
    “Don’t tell me you’re going to look into it! ARK rounded these people up after I told you what my client saw. I know there’s a cover up and I want to know what you know about it!”  
  
  
    “Ginny, you’re making a scene.”  
  
  
    “Oh, you’ll know when I’m making a scene. You were friends with Harry for years. I thought you were my friend, too. Harry’s been framed and you’re not going to do anything about it?”  
  
  
    “Ginny,” Astoria Malfoy called. “I think you should leave, now.” Ginny looked back at Draco.  
  
  
    “All these years…” She shook her head and headed for the door.  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    Orwell and Harry found an abandoned building. They lit a few candles, and then sat down.  
  
  
    “Whoever’s after you knew where to find you, Harry, even though you weren’t dressed as the Cape. You must’ve been hit with a tracking device.”  
  
  
    “I’ve already checked my clothes for one. I didn’t find anything.”  
  
  
    “Maybe it’s on your skin, then. Take off your shirt,” she ordered.  
  
  
    Harry was really starting to get tired of hearing that, but he complied, revealing the bandages on his chest.  
  
  
    Hermione frowned. When did Harry break his ribs?  
  
  
    “You didn’t tell me it was this bad,” she commented as her hands started roaming over his back.  
  
  
    “You didn’t ask,” he replied, resolutely not looking at her. Merlin, this was a really big invasion of his personal space with someone he knew next to nothing about.  
  
  
    “You know, you’ve never told me anything about your family or who you are,” he pointed out.  
  
  
    “I can’t remember my mother,” Hermione replied, after a pause. _That much was true, anyway._ Her hands now roamed over his chest. She tried not to put any pressure on his injured ribs. “And my father left when I was twelve. I’ve been on my own ever since.”  
  
  
    Harry stalled her hands for a moment and looked at her.  
  
  
    “Don’t lie to me.” She frowned. _Was it that obvious that she’d lied?_ Better stick to the truth, then.  
  
  
    “He used to come to my ballet recitals.”  
  
  
    “No kidding? I bet he was real proud of you.”  
  
  
    “That’s interesting,” Hermione said, staring at a spot on his shoulder. “Don’t move.” She pulled a knife out of one of her boots and used it to dig into Harry’s shoulder and pull out the device.  
  
  
    “Ouch! What is that?” Harry asked.  
  
  
    “Subcutaneous tracking beacon/monitor. This thing can read your heart rate, your Body Mass Index, you name it.  
  
  
    “Whoever hit you with this knows you better than your own doctor does.” Harry frowned. What doctor? He couldn’t go for checkups when he was supposed to be dead. He shook his head.  
  
  
    “Can you use it to find who was tracking me?”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “They’ll be looking for us now,” Fred said to George.  
  
  
    “Then let’s make it a bit harder for them to find us.”  
  
  
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP  
  
  
    “Okay,” Freddie said to Al. “Now I’m going to hook this up to that and we should be all set…” There was a click and then the lights in the apartment went out. So did virtually all of the electronics across town. Freddie blinked as he considered the timing of the blackout.  
  
  
    “My bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missed Fred and George’s birthday, but that accrues to your benefit. (If I had posted the new chapter on April Fool’s Day, there would have been a prank at the end of it.)
> 
> You can join me in thanking my beta, Dragomir.
> 
> You know the drill. Liked Freddie popping up as Al’s neighbor? Wanted to spend more time on shirtless!Harry? Disappointed that Malfoy wasn’t turned into a ferret in this fic?
> 
> THIS FIC IS ON HIATUS, PENDING COMMENTS.


	17. Fred & George Part Three: Moving On

            Freddie and Al sat in the darkened apartment, eating ice cream straight from the carton. (Well, who knew how long the blackout would last? It would be a shame for all that ice cream to melt…)

            “My dad said he was going out for cigarettes,” Freddie volunteered in between mouthfuls. “He never came back. Now it’s just me and my mum.”

            “Oh,” the other ten-year-old replied.

            “What happened to your dad?” Freddie asked.

            Al looked at him. Was it possible that his new friend hadn’t heard the vicious rumors about his father?

            “My dad was a police officer. He died in the line of duty. Anything else you hear is a lie!”

            “Okay. Have you gotten over it?”

            “What?” Al asked.

            “Well, I’ve gotten over my dad being gone. What about you?”

            Al stared out the window a moment before responding.

            “Yeah; I’m moving on.”

~HP~

 

            Across town, Harry and Hermione had realized who was behind the blackout.

            Fred sat in the van, talking with George over the headsets as his brother stalked through the darkened building in search of the vigilante, night vision goggles in place.

            “So, afterwards, for dinner,” Fred began.

            “Are you buying?” George interrupted his twin.

            “Yes, George? George?!” Fred frowned. He’d lost transmission. The door of the van slid open a moment later and he sighed in relief. “George, what happen…?” The assassin trailed off. That wasn’t his brother. That was a very pissed off blogger.

 

~HP~

 

            Ginny Potter came home to find her son lying on his back with a stomachache and an empty carton of ice cream next to him. But what really surprised her was the other ten year old boy lying next to him in similar distress.

            “Al, who is that?”

            “This is my mate Freddie,” Al replied. Ginny smiled. Finally, a friend who wasn’t imaginary, or a backstabbing traitor like Malfoy had turned out to be.

            “That’s good. We can use all the friends we can get.”

~HP~

_100 Miles East of Palm City, Twenty-four Hours after the previous rendezvous._

            Severus Snape met George Weasley at the appointed hour.

            “Where’s the cape?” Snape asked, referring to the agreed-upon proof of the assassination. In reply, George held out his knife, on which a sliver of blue fabric had come off. Snape plucked the threads from the blade.

            “Funny, I imagined it being a lot bigger,” Snape drawled. He knew what this meant, although, really, the fact that the other twin was missing had tipped him off. The brothers had failed in their mission. The Cape was still alive.

            Snape kept the relief off his face. He was, as far as George was concerned, the same man who had ordered the hit on the vigilante the day before. No one, with the exception of his therapist, Dumbledore, knew that Chess was a separate personality.

            Snape was going to keep it that way.

            “We need more time,” George replied.

            “You had twenty-four hours,” Snape shot back.

            “They took Fred—”

            “Then you could finish the job by yourself.”

            “I can’t. We’re a team. Look, I do have something,” George reached for a USB drive he had around his neck, the one with all of the brothers’ data on the Cape.

            “Enough,” Snape interrupted him. “You failed in your mission. Now it’s over. You can tell your masters that I’m never hiring anyone from Tarot again.”

~HP~

 

            George met with Potter and Orwell in the diner he’d watched them in before. Again, the vigilante was in his standard civilian gear, complete with ball cap and hoodie to hide his face. Weasley passed the USB drive over to Harry.

            “It’s everything we found out about you,” he explained. “We keep files on all of our victims and take their secrets to the grave. We won’t tell anyone who you are.”

            “Not even Snape?” Hermione asked.

            “Especially not Snape,” George frowned, thinking of the brush off he’d gotten earlier. “Now: Where is my brother?”

            “Why makes you think I’m going to tell you?” Harry asked. George glared at him.

            “Owl Island; we took him to Owl Island Prison,” Hermione said.

            “I see who wears the cape in this relationship,” George smirked.

            “Relationship? What relationship?” Harry asked.

            “Harry,” Orwell sighed. George started to stand.

            “Hey. I don’t want to see you or your brother in my town again, do you understand?” Harry warned the assassin.

            “Oh, I think we’ll meet again. So long for now, Mr. Cape,” George waved to them on the way out of the diner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends episode 6. Anyone ready to read about the Dark Lord?
> 
> I am pleased to announce that my beta, Dragomir, gave me the go-ahead to post the chapter as-is. Thanks to D for continuing to serve as beta!
> 
> I will only continue this fic if I feel that the comments/kudos warrant it. It’s not like I don’t have other fics to work on, people.


	18. The Dark Lord Part One: The Dead Will Rise

            Lavender Brown strolled through the parking lot of the rental shop she owned. It had been a quiet evening, so far. If no more customers turned up, she could probably shut the doors early…

 

            The sudden appearance of a man in front of her startled her. She hadn’t heard his approach. His appearance sort of gave her the creeps for some reason. Maybe it was the out-of-date hat he was wearing on his head or the pallor of his skin, or perhaps it was something about his eyes.

 

            “Can I help you?” Lavender asked.

 

            “I’d like to rent a truck,” the man replied. So he could speak! He probably wasn’t a phantom, then.

 

            “Then you came to the right place,” the young woman answered.

 

            “How about that one,” the man pointed to a nearby truck, “with the spraying equipment on the back?”

 

            “No problem,” Lavender managed to smile. “What purpose are you renting the truck for?”

 

            “…Agriculture,” the man supplied.

 

            “Okay, I just need to see some I.D., and then I’ll fill out the paperwork.”

 

            The customer handed her a driver’s license. It said his name was Pius Thicknesse. Lavender hurried into the booth where she kept her desk and punched the name into her computer. Then she frowned as an error message popped up reading: DECEASED. Shaking her head, she jogged back over to the man and handed him back the apparently fake I.D.

 

            “Okay, now I’m going to need to see some _real_ I.D. This one says you’re dead.”

 

            “I am dead,” Thicknesse replied.

 

            “ _What?_ ”

 

            In answer, Thicknesse lifted up his hand, full of some sort of powder, and blew it into her face, so she’d have to inhale it. Lavender coughed, and then slumped to the ground, her eyes wide, but unseeing.

 

            “The dead will rise,” Thicknesse proclaimed.

 

INSERT THEME MUSIC

 

            Albus was absorbed in his videogame, as his mother watched on from the kitchen. Harry sat near Al on a chair, waiting for Al’s turn to be over.

 

            “Don’t skip my turn again,” Harry chided his son. Al didn’t react.

 

            “Do you want any popcorn, Al?” Ginny called from the kitchen.

 

            “Yes,” Al called out.

 

            “Me too,” Harry added, and then his eyes returned to the television screen. “Hey! You just skipped my turn again! Al? Al?” The boy didn’t answer him. Harry went into the kitchen and stood next to his wife.

 

            “Al, your fingers are going to become stuck to the control if you keep on like that,” Ginny teased her son. She didn’t react to her husband’s presence beside her.

 

            “Ginny?” Harry asked. She didn’t respond. “Look at me, Ginny. LOOK AT ME!” But the redhead would not look at him. She kept looking at their son, as if, as if…

 

            _They can’t see or hear me,_ Harry realized with horror.

 

            “Ginny, I’m not dead! I’m still alive! I’m not dead!” he repeated in growing desperation.

 

            Harry woke up to hear banging on the door of his hideout. He took a moment to get his bearings. He was not at home with his wife and son. They still believed he was dead because he hadn’t disabused them of that notion. (Well, he’d tried with Al, hadn’t he? As the Cape, he’d told the boy that he would see his father again someday.)

 

            Harry got out of bed to answer whoever was incessantly knocking and found Mad-Eye Moody and Ron on the other side. He stepped back to allow them in.

 

            “Potter, you have to come with us. There’s something you have to see. Leave the cape. We need the cop,” Moody informed him.

 

~HP~

 

            The three men stood at an open grave in the cemetery, the coffin before them recently unearthed.

 

            “It’s Lavender Brown,” a miserable Ron told his best friend. “A girl I used to date. They found her body two days ago. It looked like she was strangled, but an autopsy would’ve been against her parents’ religion, so they had her buried yesterday without one.”

 

            “And someone dug up her grave today,” Moody added. Harry lifted the lid of the empty coffin to examine it.

 

            “No, she dug herself out,” the former cop corrected him.

 

            “What?” Ron asked.

 

            “There are scratch marks and blood on the inside of the lid, see?” Harry indicated. “She was buried alive and she clawed her way out.”

 

            “Then where is she now?” Weasley wondered.

 

~HP~

 

            “You’re talking about miles of shoreline property,” Mayor Cornelius Fudge stated. He was seated at an outdoor restaurant table with Neville Longbottom and Severus Snape.

 

            “I know what I’m talking about. That’s why I’m offering you seven billion dollars for it,” Snape replied, trying not to let his irritation show.

 

            “Excuse me, but if you buy the ports, who would inspect your ships?” Neville asked Snape.

 

            “The local authorities,” Snape replied.

 

            “But you _are_ the local authorities,” Neville pointed out, facing the CEO. “What are you going to do, check your own passports and then set sail?”

 

            “What Longbottom means—” Fudge began.

 

            “I know what Longbottom means, what I want to know is why Longbottom is here.” Snape narrowed his eyes at the secretary of prisons. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t offering to buy a prison.”

 

            “The _ports_ come under the _Port_ Authority,” Neville answered, reminding Snape that he was also in charge of said agency.

 

            “Fine; I don’t need this. I can take my business to somewhere else, perhaps Tottori, Japan.”

 

            “Japan’s seventeen hours ahead of us,” Neville responded without missing a beat. He plucked his cell phone down on the table in front of Snape. “Here, give them a call,” he called his bluff.

 

            Snape made no move to pick up the phone.

 

            “The offer will be open for forty-eight hours,” the billionaire told the mayor. “Make no mistake I will _kill_ ,” he stared at that thorn in his side, Longbottom, “this deal,” he finished.

 

~HP~

 

            Later that day, Neville sat on a bench near the pier. Hermione, a ball cap pulled over her head and headphones on, jogged up to him, and then sat down, pretending to stretch and adjust her shoes.

 

            “Pull out your sandwich,” she muttered to him. “You’re being watched.” She nodded to men in the distance, presumably Snape’s. Neville suppressed a shudder and took out his lunch as he was told.

 

            “I thought Orwell was coming,” the secretary muttered. Hadn’t his message been clear? He’d wanted to speak directly to the blogger.

 

            Hermione suppressed a sigh. If only he knew.

 

            “Orwell didn’t save your life from frog toxin, I did,” she said, reminding him of his close call with a Tarot assassin. “What do you have for me?”

 

            “These are Snape’s clients,” Neville passed her photos of overseas terrorists. “He sells arms and drugs. He’s now put in a bid to buy Palm City’s ports. If he’s successful, he’ll be able to smuggle his products out of the country without anyone there to stop him.

 

            “So I went scouring the records to see if I could find something, an obscure law or a violation Snape might’ve committed, something to keep him from buying the docks. I was coming up empty-handed, until I turned to the chain of title.” The chain of title would record how ownership of the property had changed hands from one owner to another over time.

 

            “Up until a few decades ago, all of that land belonged to the Riddles,” the city’s founding family. “When they all died in a plane crash, without leaving an heir, the city took over the property without having to buy it from anyone. But, check this out,” he handed her a newspaper article. There were two photographs of Merope Riddle: One showed her heavily pregnant, the other with a flat stomach. The caption was: “ **WHERE’S THE BABY?** ”

 

            “Merope was pregnant, but photographed getting onto that plane when she was no longer pregnant. No one ever knew what happened to the baby; they assumed there had been a miscarriage. But what if there wasn’t? What if there’s an heir out there that the ports lawfully belong to?

 

            “I found this when I was looking through the chain of title,” Neville handed her a document labeled “Record of Birth.”

 

            “Tom Marvolo Riddle?” Hermione asked, reading the name aloud. “Who is that?”

 

            “Someone who doesn’t officially exist,” Longbottom explained. “No birth certificate for him was ever filed. But if you find him, the missing heir…”

 

            “Then Snape wouldn’t be able to buy the property from the city, because the city wouldn’t have title to it.”

 

            “Exactly,” Neville concluded.

 

            “I’ll post this to the blog within the hour,” Hermione reached for the file he’d brought.

 

            “Is that necessary?” Neville asked, suddenly afraid of the repercussions. Snape had already tried to have him killed for standing between him and the prisons. If he found out that Neville was also keeping him from getting the ports…

 

            “I understand your concern for your safety,” Hermione assured him. “Knowing Snape, it’s justified. But posting this to the blog is the best way to get someone who knows about Riddle to come forward. So, may I?”

 

            Neville hesitated and then handed the evidence he’d uncovered over to the woman.

 

 

~HP~

 

            Moody, Ron, and Harry climbed onto the abandoned bus. It appeared that the bus had become a shelter for vagrants, but the only occupant using it now was…

 

            “Lavender!” Ron exclaimed, running to her side. She opened her eyes, but didn’t focus them. “Lav-Lav, it’s me! Ron! Remember, we met at that party?”

 

            She didn’t seem to recognize him.

 

            “Does this bus go to the parade?” she asked.

 

            “Parade?” Ron repeated. “No, no there’s no parade.”

 

            Hysterical, she bolted to her feet and started spouting gibberish.

 

            “I have to find the parade. I serve him. He wants me to go to where the land meets the sea!” Lavender babbled.

 

            “Who?” Harry asked.

 

            “The Dark Lord,” Lavender whispered.

 

            Harry took a step towards her and she struck at him. Moody came to Potter’s aid; he put the young woman in a chokehold, shocking Ron.

 

            “Moody, what are you doing to her?”

 

            “Just making her sleep,” Moody reassured him. He let go of Lavender after she lost consciousness.

 

            “Did you catch the name she gave?” Ron asked.

 

            “The Dark Lord,” Harry repeated.

 

            “You’ve heard of him?” the redhead questioned.

 

            “Yeah,” Harry nodded.

 

            “Good. Tell me his address,” Weasley cracked his knuckles.

 

            “I can’t. I don’t think the boogieman has an address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to part one of The Dark Lord! The actual title, “The Lich” spanned episodes seven and eight, so this story arc may be as long as six chapters. Of course, we’re not ever going to get to the end of that arc if the story doesn’t get comments. I do hope that wasn’t too subtle for you. I’m only posting this now because, sadly, the last chapter had more reviews (on FFN) than the recent updates to either of my other works-in-progress.
> 
> But on the plus side, I get to post an update to a Cape fic on the night of NBC’s pathetic attempt at replacing it, Revolution. Therefore, if you do nothing more than read the fic rather than watch that drek, I must thank you.
> 
> Thank you to Dragomir for beta-ing the chapter!


	19. The Dark Lord Part Two: Zombies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because trying to clear his name wasn't enough, Harry has to work with Malfoy...

            “Wait!” Remus called.

 

            Ginny Potter paused. She was just about to leave work and head home, but her boss had caught up to her before she could reach the door. Katie Bell, her best friend at the office, followed Lupin as he approached her.

 

            “Ginny,” Katie began, “we’re just headed out for drinks. You should join us.”

 

            “I’d love to,” Ginny replied, “but I’ve got to get home. I’ve got to see to—”

 

            “Objection, your honor,” Remus addressed Katie, “but I know for a fact that counselor’s son is staying at a friend’s tonight. So she has no reason not to come with us.”

 

            Ginny was taken aback. Alright, yes, Al was staying at Freddie’s. Maybe she didn’t have to stay home this evening, but she had been trying to politely say no without outright saying she wasn’t interested. She had half a mind to just tell him to bugger off.

 

            But that’d be a really lousy idea, seeing as how Remus had given her the job when no one else in Palm City would touch a Potter. Besides, she hadn’t had a night out since before Harry had… Well, maybe it would be good to get out of the apartment for a change.

 

            “Okay,” Ginny folded her arms. “Let’s go.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            They took Lavender to Trolley Park. Ron frowned. He had no idea what to do for her now.

 

            “I’ve seen this before,” Moody informed the younger men. “It’s a psychoactive drug. It induces susceptibility to suggestion, paranoia, and paralysis.”

 

            “So it creates zombies,” Harry said.

 

            “We need to get her to a doctor,” Ron interjected.

 

            “She doesn’t need a doctor. She needs a surgeon of the mind—me,” Sirius said, coming up behind the group. He clasped Ron’s shoulder briefly before approaching Lavender’s prone form.

 

            “You said you know who did this to her?” Ron asked Harry. The hero sighed.

 

            “Look, every precinct in the city has a file labeled: ‘the Dark Lord.’ Whenever you have an odd unsolved case of kidnapping or murder, where there was something inexplicable about it, you add it to the file. The Dark Lord’s just a myth, like the boogieman.”

 

            “It’s not a myth,” Ron disagreed. “I’ve heard rumors about guys who were hired to move this kind of drug in the city. Only they tried to cross the dealer and then they disappeared.”

 

            “Even if there was somebody the myth was based on, we wouldn’t have a clue to go on,” Harry pointed out. Their eyes tracked to where Sirius was working with Lavender. Maybe they did have a lead, after all.

 

            Sirius was sitting by Lavender, holding one of her hands, and trying to hypnotize her.

 

            “I serve the Dark Lord,” Lavender protested.

 

            “I know. And the Dark Lord wants you to cooperate with me. Now, we’re going to go on a journey in your mind. Tell me what you saw…”

 

            A distraught Lavender, reliving the experience, recounted as the men in masks and hoods attacked her as they stole the truck. She broke off and started whimpering, but Sirius strove ahead.

 

            “Where are you?” he demanded.

 

            “Trolley—track 12,” she gasped out.

 

            “Alright; rest now,” Sirius instructed her.

 

            “I know where that is,” Harry told his friends. “I can lead you there.”

 

            “I should stay with Lavender,” Ron said.

 

            “Go,” Sirius told the redhead. “I’ll watch over her.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            Moody, Harry, and Ron walked along the dark tunnel where Lavender had been taken by her kidnappers. It was a really, really dark tunnel and dirty and probably had insects and spiders…

 

            “Hail Mary full of grace…” _Um_ … “What’s the rest?!” Ron asked.

 

            “Relax, Ron. There’s no one here—” And of course Harry had to speak too soon. These tracks were supposed to have been abandoned. Yet there was definitely an oncoming trolley. The pedestrians threw themselves to the sides of the tunnel just in time.

 

            Harry’s heart stopped racing after the threat had passed and he’d found that the three of them had survived unscathed.

 

            They continued walking along the tunnel until they came to a room. It looked like it was being used as a storage facility. Harry frowned. They’d found a stash of the toxin that was used on Lavender.

 

            “Harry, take a look at this!” Ron called. There was a map tacked to one of the walls, and on it traced in red—

 

            “That’s the parade route,” Harry said. “The Founders’ Day parade is the day after tomorrow. Millions of people turn out for that. And these terrorists have a truck with spraying equipment on the back. They’re going to spray the citizens along the parade route with this stuff…”

 

            “Turning them into zombies,” Ron finished. “Zombie-terrorist sounds like a rotten combination.”

 

            “Too bad you can’t call off the parade,” Moody grunted.

 

            “Maybe _I_ can’t, but I know someone,” Harry said. Oh god. He’d rather hoped he wouldn’t have to work with that slimy, back-stabbing git again.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Katie, Remus, and Ginny were seated at a table, laughing.

 

            “Do Judge Slughorn!” Katie urged Lupin.

 

            “Court will now take a recess for lunch. Where’s my crystallized pineapple? Bailiff! Secure the crystallized pineapple in my chambers!” Lupin imitated the judge. The two women giggled.

 

            Lupin smiled at Ginny, reached out and covered her hand with his. The redhead was startled and pulled her hand away.

 

            _Oh, Merlin. He was flirting with her._ This was so wrong.

 

            “It’s getting late. I have to go. Goodnight,” she babbled as she shot to her feet.

 

            “Ginny!” Lupin called after her as she hurried away.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Draco Malfoy walked through the parking garage to his Mercedes. He unlocked the door and got into the driver’s seat, ready to leave ARK and head home to his family. Then he gazed into his rearview mirror and saw that he wasn’t alone. The Cape was in the backseat. Malfoy swore and pulled his gun on the vigilante.

 

            “You!” Malfoy spat.

 

            Harry raised his gloved hands to show they were empty.

 

            “Malfoy, the Dark Lord is real.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “He’s real, he’s got an army, and he’s going to release a toxin on the crowds at the Founders’ Parade. You have to cancel it.”

 

            “Me? Even if I believed you, I can’t cancel it.”

 

            “Oh that’s right. You’re only the Chief of Police. Why don’t you grow a pair and stand up to Snape?”

 

            “Hey, you can’t talk to me like—”

 

            “There are going to be families at the parade, Malfoy. Your family is going to be there, right? You can’t ignore this.”

 

            “Do you have any proof?” the blonde asked. The Cape nodded.

 

            “Yeah; if you come with me, I’ll show you what I’ve found.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            Malfoy glanced from the map to the toxin canisters.

 

            “You said this creates zombies,” he bit his lip.

 

            “What’s the matter, Malfoy? You have a dead guy that’s mad at you?” Harry taunted his betrayer.

 

            “That’s it! I’ve had enough of you!”

 

            “You want to take me on?” the Cape asked. “Fine; you name the day and the time, but not now. Not when we have to find the Dark Lord before he puts his plan into action.”

 

            Malfoy nodded.

 

            “Alright,” he said, agreeing to a temporary truce.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Back at home, in bed, Ginny sobbed.

 

            “That wasn’t flirting,” she said to herself. “It’s… too soon. Oh god. You were always so jealous,” she addressed her husband’s spirit. “I feel you watching me, Harry. Judging me as I try to raise Al. I’m trying, I’m doing my best, but it’s just so hard!” she cried.

 

            “I miss you so much.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            The day after Hermione had uploaded Neville’s information about the missing heir to her blog, she received a video in reply. The blogger played it.

 

            _“Hello, this message is for Orwell. My name is Bellatrix Lestrange. I’m a nurse at St. Mungo’s Sanitarium. Tom Riddle is here, Room 236. I’ve got his admission papers_ ,” she held them briefly in front of the camera.

 

            “ _They’re trying to keep him hidden, but it’s not right. You have to come, but please be careful! He’s not supposed to have visitors.”_ The screen went blank as the video ended.

 

            Hermione tapped out a quick reply: “I’ll send a reporter.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            “Mr. Snape,” Malfoy entered his boss’ office.

 

            “Yes?”

 

            “We need to cancel the Founders’ Day parade.”

 

            “Excuse me? This parade is our celebration. We are founding a new era for the city. We can’t cancel it.”

 

            “We can if we have to for security reasons.”

 

            “We _are_ the city’s security,” Snape retorted. “You want to announce that we can’t ensure peoples’ safety at the parade?”

 

            “We received a tip that a terrorist is planning to attack the parade-goers with biological weapons.”

 

            “And who did you receive the tip from?” Snape’s black eyes bored into Malfoy’s.

 

            “The Cape,” the younger man answered eventually.

 

            “You got the tip from the Cape. Did it occur to you that the Cape is the terrorist you should be watching out for?”

 

            “I’m prepared to look into that, but I still…”

 

            “Prepared to look into that?” Snape repeated. “No. You’ll do what I say and arrest the Cape or you’ll leave your badge on my desk.”

 

            “Sir,” Malfoy turned on his heel and left Snape’s office. Alone, the billionaire looked at the empty seat across from him. Well, at least it was physically empty. He saw his other half, Chess, sitting there.

 

            “Kill them,” Chess advised.

 

            “No. Go away,” Snape ordered the apparition.

 

            “Kill them _all_ ,” Chess suggested.

 

            “All of them, even the Cape?” Snape asked.

 

            “Especially the Cape,” Chess answered. Severus shouldn’t get so attached to that vigilante.

 

~CAPE~

 

            “Orwell sent a woman?” Bellatrix Lestrange didn’t bother to conceal her disappointment from Hermione.

 

            This was the second person to have that reaction in two days. The blogger was getting pretty tired of this sexist shite. If it didn’t help her hide her identity, she’d put an end to the belief that the blogger was male.

 

            “Summer Ferrin,” Hermione introduced herself. “Are those the admission papers you showed in the video?”

 

            “Yes,” Bellatrix handed them over reluctantly. “He’s in Room 236. But—”

 

            “He’s not supposed to have visitors, I get it. I’ll be careful,” she replied before hurrying up the stairs. She located Room 236 and slipped inside.

 

            “Hello?” she called. “I’m looking for Tom Riddle.”

 

            “There’s no one here by that name. This is my room,” a man replied. Hermione drew closer. He appeared to be a good looking man, brown-haired, chiseled chin. He looked as if he was no more than a year or two older than she was, but she knew from the date of his parents’ deaths that that couldn’t be true. He was sitting in an armchair, a blanket over his legs. Hermione was left with the impression that the limbs didn’t work properly.

 

            “Oh? Have you been here long?” Hermione asked.

 

            “Not very long,” the patient replied. Hermione looked pointedly around the room, full of the stuff he’d accumulated over time, including piles of books and papers, and—her eyes widened. There was a crib in one corner. The poor man had been here since he was a baby, hadn’t he?

 

            “How about I open a window?” Hermione suggested.

 

            “There’s a breeze from that window. Not really a breeze, it’s more like an air current—careful!” Riddle admonished her. She’d stepped over one of his piles on her way to the window, nearly knocking it over. “I have everything in order!”

 

            “Okay,” Hermione said. She turned to a book on top of one of the stacks. “The Lindbergh baby,” she observed.

 

            “Not much of a tragedy, if you ask me,” Riddle said. “He was what? Twenty months old when he was taken from his parents? Enough time to get to know their faces, their voices, to begin to talk and walk. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

 

            “What’s this?” Hermione asked, picking up a sheet of paper from another pile.

 

            “No! Don’t touch that!” Riddle exclaimed.

 

            “Did you do this?” Hermione asked, examining the drawing. “It’s really good.”

 

            “It’s the design for a building,” Riddle admitted. “I have nothing but time here so I make plans. Not that any of those plans come to fruition.”

 

            Hermione sat in a chair opposite him.

 

            “You know what? I think you _are_ Tom Riddle,” she said. The door to the room opened, revealing Bellatrix Lestrange.

 

            “Tea?” she offered.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Ron stopped by Harry’s hideout, to find the vigilante at work on the computer. Harry was reading about Orwell’s hunt to track down Riddle. There seemed to be some connection to the Dark Lord. One of the Dark Lord’s victims had been the Riddle’s estate lawyer.

 

            He left a message on his partner’s voicemail. Then a chirp went off, startling the redhead.

 

            “What was that?”

 

            “It’s just my phone. Relax,” Harry picked up his headset, put it on, and answered the caller. It was Malfoy!

 

            “We found the truck. How fast can you get here?” the blonde asked.

 

~CAPE~

 

            The Cape looked around warily as he approached the truck. He didn’t see anyone in sight, but he figured he should be cautious. The last time he’d shown up somewhere after telling Malfoy where he would be, he’d been ambushed and then framed for Chess’ crimes.

 

            He reached a gloved hand out to open the door to the truck’s passenger compartment, and came face to face with an ARK officer. Before he could turn around, Harry was surrounded by ARK policemen, their weapons trained on him.

 

            Malfoy walked through the ranks to him and handcuffed the Cape.

 

            The Benedict Arnold was betraying him again! Perfect; could this day get any better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been beta’d, so by all means, quibble away.
> 
> Once more, if you’re enjoying the fic, please check out The Cape. The series is on DVD, and the episodes are still online. If you like the show please spread the word.
> 
> -Boycotting NBC.


	20. The Dark Lord Part Three: Tea and Plans

            Draco ushered the Cape into the backseat of his car, after he’d handcuffed the vigilante’s hands in front of his body. (Ostensibly, this was so Draco could keep his eyes on the illusionist’s hands at all times. Word of the Cape’s abilities as an escape artist had spread, so the excuse had gone unquestioned.)

 

            The chief of police drove for a while, his eyes frequently darting to his rearview mirror.

 

            “Here,” he tossed the handcuff keys to the ‘prisoner,’ once he judged they were far enough away from the other ARK employees. The Cape quickly ditched the manacles.

 

            “I hope you’re not expecting a thank you,” the vigilante groused. From the tone of voice, Draco was certain the mask concealed a raised eyebrow. He frowned. If the two didn’t keep butting heads, the hero would probably get along great with his boss. They seemed to be more similar than they would ever admit.

 

            “I had to do that for appearances,” Malfoy pointed out. He couldn’t openly defy Snape.

 

            “What, you had to waste time while the Dark Lord is preparing a massive attack on the city? Please tell me you’re cancelling the parade.”

 

            “I can’t,” Malfoy responded. “But look: There’s no way he’ll be able to gas the parade-goers. We’ve arranged top-notch security. _Nothing_ that isn’t supposed to be there is getting through.”

 

            Harry considered the last statement, the wheels in his head turning.

 

            “Nothing that isn’t supposed to be there,” he repeated. But if something appeared innocuous, as if it were part of the festivities… “Turn the car around! Now!” he ordered his former partner.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Bellatrix poured the tea for them, as Riddle explained some of the reasons his plans for developing the city were doomed to failure.

 

            “I have plans. I have scars on my body from where the orderlies would beat me. I have tremors from all the stress, all the night-terrors. I don’t have hope.

 

            “Why should I? Snape owns more than half of Palm City as it is.”

 

            “You keep up with the news, then?” Hermione asked. Then she chided herself. Maybe he was holed up in this institution, but that didn’t mean he was cut off from the rest of the world. She shouldn’t have assumed.

 

            “News,” Riddle shook his head. “I’d hardly call what gets written about him news. You can’t find an impartial story when the reporters are all in his pockets.”

 

            “Not all of them are,” Hermione said, quietly but firmly. Riddle turned to look her in the eyes. He nodded after a moment, as if satisfied by what he saw there.

 

             “Who did you say you were looking for?”

 

            “Tom Marvolo Riddle. There’s a certificate of birth, but it was never filed,” she handed the document she’d gotten from Neville to Riddle. “We file this, and you can claim your inheritance. You can keep Snape from taking control of the docks.”

 

            Riddle examined the papers. Then he looked up at her.

 

            “You never featured in any of my plans. You could actually make them a reality. Why would you help me?”

 

            Hermione looked at the crib in the room. It looked like she had finally found someone who could empathize with the tragedy that was her childhood. Certainly here was another person who hated her father.

 

            “Because maybe I understand what it’s like to be an orphan,” she said aloud. She didn’t, of course. But she had lost her mother and she would prefer to think of her father as dead than to think about who he was.

 

~CAPE~

 

            The Cape and Malfoy burst onto the scene. Sure enough, the ARK employees that had been left to guard the truck had been knocked unconscious. Others were guarding the truck now, no doubt ones who worked for the Dark Lord.

 

            The two quickly subdued most of them. It was surreal for Harry, working with Malfoy again. It was almost like old times—except, of course, for the mask on his face and the cape he was using as a weapon.

 

            Now only one man was left to be dealt with: Pius Thicknesse. If anything, he proved easier to restrain than the men who had been reporting to him. At first this confused Harry, but Malfoy quickly spotted the reason.

 

            “Look at his eyes. He’s been drugged.”

 

            _Just like Lavender was_ , Harry thought.

 

            “The dead will rise,” Thicknesse pronounced.

 

            “What?” Malfoy asked.

 

            “The Dark Lord will claim what is his,” Thicknesse parroted his master.

 

            “Who is the Dark Lord?” the Cape demanded.

 

            “Tom Riddle,” Thicknesse replied.

 

            Harry’s heart started pounding. Riddle was the Dark Lord. Hermione had gone alone to find Riddle, and she still hadn’t returned his phone call. Oh god. What had she gotten herself into this time? He had to find her!

 

~CAPE~

 

            Riddle had gone back to looking at the certificate of birth.

 

            “Kidnappers didn’t bring me here,” he observed. “My parents did,” he handed her back the document, with his parents’ names on it.

 

            “They left me here, an unwanted child. But they didn’t expect the little boy to have a knack for chemicals. Neither did the orderlies who used to bully me. But they learned their lesson,” Riddle stood up from his chair at last, surprising the blogger who had assumed he was crippled.

 

            “Especially,” Riddle continued, “the chair of St. Mungo’s, Pius Thicknesse.” Revenge was sweet. But Riddle wasn’t finished with his speech. He began telling the reporter about the birth defect he’d been born with.

 

            As he spoke, he took off his wig, and then started peeling off his face—no, not his face, Hermione realized quickly. Riddle had been wearing a mask. Without it, far from looking handsome, he barely looked human. There were only slits where there should have been a nose. His eyes gleamed menacingly as he continued.

 

            “They say my mother, Merope, screamed for two days after she saw me.” The Dark Lord blew his powdered toxin into Hermione’s stunned face before she could retreat.

 

            “When will you stop screaming, my dear?” Tom addressed her seemingly lifeless body. Hermione lay upon the floor, staring at nothing, her mouth contorted in a silent scream.

 

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so alternate episode seven draws to a close.
> 
> Once again, this chapter has not been beta-d.
> 
> Did you know that Monday was The Cape’s night? Are you content for NBC to give Mondays over to Revolting? 
> 
> Let’s show NBC that we won’t settle for Cape-lite. 
> 
> -Six Seasons and a Movie!


	21. The Dark Lord Part Four: To Have and To Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...talk with Ginny...

_Hermione stood gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was trying on a wedding dress—white, full embroidered skirt, and strapless. An engraved tiara supported the veil that fell over her coiffed hair and down her back._

_The two best friends that she’d had growing up—Melissa and Maria—were with her. They very much approved of the selection._

_“Yes! This is the one,” Melissa assured her. “It’s beautiful.”_

_“I don’t know,” Hermione hesitated._

_“What do you mean you don’t know?” Melissa asked._

_“She’s just nervous,” Maria said._

_“Don’t be. It’s the happiest day of your life! You’re getting married!” If the other bridesmaid’s demeanor was anything to go by, she was more excited about the wedding than the bride-to-be._

_A sound made Hermione turn her head._

_“Is that my phone?”_

_“Hermione, focus; you have to say yes to the dress!”  Melissa insisted. Maria nodded._

_“Okay, yes,” Hermione decided at last. She returned to her reflection and gazed at it. “I’m getting married,” she repeated._

 

* * *

 

            In reality, Hermione had an I.V. full of the Dark Lord’s toxin strapped to her wrist. Bellatrix, having already gotten Hermione into an old white gown she’d dug up from somewhere (probably rescuing it from destruction-by-moths just in the nick of time), put heels onto the drugged blogger’s feet. Lestrange had already placed a veil over the now lank brunette hair, so the shoes finished the job. Finally, the nurse pushed the catatonic Orwell along in a wheelchair, I.V. drip and all, down the hallway toward the waiting groom.

 

            The Dark Lord hated to be kept waiting.

 

INSERT THEME MUSIC

 

            Harry pulled out his cell phone as Malfoy read Thicknesse his rights a few yards away. The vigilante dialed Orwell’s number.

 

            In a bunker in another part of the city, the Dark Lord looked at the caller I.D. on the cell phone: The Cape. So there was someone else in Palm City that used a handle. He might be interested if he wasn’t suspicious of anyone trying to contact his fiancée.

 

            “Orwell?” Harry asked when his call was answered.

 

            “ _Guess again_ ,” the Dark Lord replied.

 

            “Where is she?” Harry snarled.

 

            “ _Leave us alone. Don’t try to find her_ ,” the Dark Lord commanded before ending the call.

 

            The Cape tucked his phone away and then he whirled to face Thicknesse. He grabbed the man away from Malfoy and shoved him up against a beam.

 

            “Where’s the Dark Lord?” the vigilante demanded.

 

            In response, Thicknesse started reciting the _Miranda_ rights that he’d just been read.

 

            Harry reared back, preparing to hit the bastard and make him listen, but Malfoy distracted him.

 

            “Hey! What are you doing? I just arrested him!”

 

            “He didn’t act alone. They’ve got a hostage,” the Cape replied before turning his attention back to the criminal. “Where is the Dark Lord?” he asked again.

 

            Thicknesse wasn’t answering, though, and Malfoy pried the suspect away from the vigilante and led him into the back of his car.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Back at his hideout, Harry made an improvised fingerprinting kit out of a candle, a balloon, and some scotch tape. After he lifted Thicknesse’s fingerprints from his chest plate, he scanned them onto the computer and logged into ARK’s database with Malfoy’s username and password. (The blonde really should update his password at some point.)

 

            The search results brought up Thicknesse’s career at St. Mungo’s before his supposed death.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Malfoy entered the interrogation room and dropped Thicknesse’s file on the table in front of him.

 

            “You look pretty good for a dead guy, Mr. Thicknesse,” Draco began. “Specialized in child psychology; graduated top of your class; you were the administrator of St. Mungo’s Sanitarium for twenty years. Makes me wonder what went wrong,” Malfoy concluded his speech by tossing a newspaper article accusing the administrator of corruption in front of the prisoner.

 

            “Those charges didn’t stick,” Pius pointed out after glancing at the headline.

 

            “Well, these might because the _chief of police_ ,” Malfoy pointed at his chest, “caught you loading weaponized neurotoxins onto that truck. But I know you didn’t act alone. Why don’t you talk to me?”

 

            “You know, in my home country, farmers raise sheep. The sheep will follow the sheep in front of them—even to slaughter,” Thicknesse replied.

 

            “Are you calling me a sheep?” Malfoy asked, affronted.

 

            “We’re all sheep. The Dark Lord is my shepherd. And I will follow him…”

 

~CAPE~

 

            _Hermione was seated outdoors, no longer wearing the wedding gown, but rather a peach-colored dress. She looked around. There were at least a dozen tables set up for dinner. No, not for dinner, for a wedding reception, she realized._

_“Is this all for us?” she asked._

_“I hope so,” Harry replied, smiling. “We’re the ones getting married.”_

_She looked at Harry. For a change, he wasn’t wearing either the costume or what she’d thought of as his civilian clothes. He was dressed…nicely, actually, like he didn’t have to hide anymore._

_But he couldn’t have to hide anymore, or they couldn’t be getting married in public… She frowned, confused._

_“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” he asked._

_“No, I just, I can’t remember how we got here.” Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember Harry proposing to her…or dating her. She looked off to the side and saw a white door standing incongruously in the middle of the outdoor setup._

_“Where does that door lead to?” she asked._

 

~CAPE~

 

            In reality, the Dark Lord gazed at Orwell, as the I.V. drip continued to feed the toxin to her.

 

            “I added a sedative to the toxin,” he informed her, “to help with the tremors. Do you know why I chose you? You told me that you were an orphan, too, and I thought to myself: _She understands._

 

            “And that was before you knew how handsome I really am,” the Dark Lord smiled. He hadn’t put his mask back on. He’d probably torn it as he’d taken it off, anyway.

 

            “We’ll be billionaires, now that you’ve recovered this piece of paper,” he continued, picking up the certificate of birth. “I’ve spent so long looking for it. And now I will be able to claim my inheritance.

 

            “We’ll need to have servants. This formula here,” he gestured to the compound, “is tasteless. It can easily be added to drinking water, or a beer at Riddle Stadium.

 

            “The toxin will cause seizures,” he explained. “For seventy percent, the seizures will prove fatal. The other thirty percent will be our willing slaves. I’ll let you choose your own servants.

 

            “What’s that?” he asked, leaning closer to the brunette’s still body, as if she had spoken.

 

            “You want me to marry you?” he asked. “Well, that’s a big commitment. Will you be loyal to me?”

 

~CAPE~

 

            Harry, in full costume, crouched outside the gates of St. Mungo’s with Ron and Moody.

 

            “Julia,” Harry began, using the name that Orwell had used when introducing herself to the Carnival of Crime, “was investigating Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord. I think he may be holding her hostage in there, but I don’t know how many guards there are or how they’re armed.”

 

            “Don’t worry, Potter. That’s why we brought our dates,” Moody replied. He and Ron both raised their shotguns.

 

            The three made their way inside. They started up the staircase to the second floor when Harry spotted Orwell’s cell phone on the landing. It started ringing and he answered it.

 

            “Hello?”

 

            “ _I told you not to look for her_,” the Dark Lord hissed.

 

            Abruptly, some of the Dark Lord’s minions surged forward to attack the trio.

 

            “Don’t shoot them!” Harry called to his companions. “They’re drugged!”

 

            Accommodating their friend, Ron and Mad-Eye limited their use of the weapons to pistol-whipping and clubbing their opponents. Harry, for his part, mostly used his fists, though he did kick one opponent down the stairs.

 

            There was a tense moment when one foe came rushing in with an axe, but Harry used the cape to grab hold of the handle and tear it from the man’s arms.

 

            Once they had defeated their adversaries, the three men made their way to the second floor and began searching for any signs of Orwell.

 

            All they found was one of the blogger’s shoes.

 

            “Damn it!” Harry exclaimed in frustration. “The Sanitarium was all I had to go on and she’s not here!”

 

            “Too bad you didn’t get any answers from Thicknesse, mate,” Ron said. Harry’s head shot up.

 

            “Maybe I still can. I have a friend in the Public Defenders’ Office…”

 

            Moody caught Potter’s meaning.

 

            “Is that a wise idea, Potter?”

 

            “Maybe not, but I don’t have a choice.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            Al was sitting on his bed, working on his math homework (for a change). A sound from his computer made him look up. The monitor of the camera that Freddie had helped him install showed that he had a visitor—the Cape.

 

            Al quickly abandoned his homework and went to the window.

 

            “You came back. Where were you?” the ten-year-old asked.

 

            “I’m sorry it’s been awhile, Al. I’ve been busy. I need your help.”

 

            “You need my help?” Al asked, his green eyes going wide.

 

            “I need to speak to your mother,” the Cape admitted.

 

            “My mum?” the boy asked, stunned. He’d thought the vigilante had been avoiding her.

 

            Al went into the kitchen where Ginny was going through the refrigerator, trying to figure out what to have for dinner.

 

            “Mum, the Cape’s on the roof. He wants to speak to you,” Al told her.

 

            Ginny nodded absent-mindedly and inspected the contents of the Tupperware.

 

            “Is this old egg salad or a science experiment gone wrong?” she asked her son.

 

            “Mum, you’re not listening! The Cape wants to meet you!”

 

            “You want me to go to the roof?” she asked, closing the door of the refrigerator. She’d really hoped her son would have stopped seeing his imaginary friend by now.

 

            “Yes!”

 

            “Alright, let’s go.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            Ginny and Al finished climbing up the fire escape to the roof. Night had fallen and the evening air was cool. The attorney glanced around. She didn’t see anyone. Perhaps now she could convince her son that the vigilante was only in his imagination…

 

            “Mrs. Potter?” a voice rasped.

 

            Ginny swung around towards the source of the voice and saw a masked man crouching on the roof’s ledge. Her eyes widened in shock, she clutched the boy to her protectively, and began to scream.

 

            “Al! Get inside and call 911!” she yelled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry about the one-sided Voldemort/Hermione! Brain-bleach is on me.
> 
> Anyhow, so begins the Potter version of episode 8. Odd pairings aside, it is a favorite episode, inspiring “In-Laws,” and “Leap for the Cape,” among other fics.
> 
> Thanks to Dragomir for beta-ing the chapter!
> 
> …What do you mean Revolting's coming back? Damn it!
> 
> You know the drill. Comment if you want to read more.


	22. The Dark Lord Part Five: In Sickness and in Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and save his best friend from Lord Voldemort.

            “Mum, you’re embarrassing me!” Al moaned.

 

            “What do you think you're doing, talking with my son?” Ginny whirled on the man playing dress-up. Do you realize he just lost his father?” _How dare this man play on Al’s obsession with the comic-book superhero? Who was this creep? And, oh, why hadn't she paid more attention to Al when he had said that he had met the Cape?_

 

            “It’s not like that,” Harry protested, as his wife looked at him accusingly. He wasn’t some madman shadowing a random ten-year-old. Now if he could just convince Ginny of that…

 

            An idea came to him. He used the cape to snatch the comic-book out of his son’s hands and followed that up with a smoke bomb and a disappearing trick.

 

            Ginny and Al gaped at the place where the vigilante had been crouching a moment before.

 

            “Mum, you scared him away!” Al complained.

 

            “No, I’m still here,” Harry rasped, from the ledge behind them. The other Potters turned to face him.

 

            “That was brilliant,” Al grinned, eliciting a smile from his hero.

 

            Ginny stared at the hooded figure. The skills he’d just used…they were straight out of that comic book. Was it possible he was the real thing?

 

            “Mrs. Potter, I need your help. A plot to attack the Founders’ Day Parade with biochemical weapons was foiled earlier. ARK arrested a suspect, Pius Thicknesse, but he wasn’t working alone. They’ve kidnapped a friend of mine.

 

            “I need your help to get access to Thicknesse so I can question him.”

 

            “You’re mad. I can’t just sneak you into a police precinct—”

 

            “If that was a real precinct, if ARK was doing real police work, I’d agree with you,” Harry interrupted the redhead. “But it’s not. Please, lives are at stake.”

 

            “Mum, lives are at stake!” Al echoed, tugging on her arm.

 

            “I’ll… I’ll think about it,” she said.

 

            Al turned to the vigilante.

 

            “Cape, that’s not good. When she says that, it means no,” the child explained.

 

            “In your heart,” Harry said, turning his gaze to his wife’s, “you know I’m right.” _You know you can trust me_ , he added silently.

 

            Ginny was caught by those green eyes, so like her son’s. Her resistance crumbled under their intensity.

 

            “Alright, I know someone who can help. Let me give him a call.”

 

            “Thank you,” Harry rasped. Al approached him.

 

            “Most of the time, she’s pretty cool,” Al confided, indicating his mother.

 

            “Yeah,” Harry smiled. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            The Dark Lord put a record on and began twirling Hermione’s limp form about the room with him, careful to keep from dislodging the I.V. cord as they “danced” to the music.

 

            “This ‘Cape’ that tried calling you, he came looking for you. I don’t like him,” Riddle whispered in her ear. “What’s that?” he asked, as if the comatose blogger had spoken aloud. “You don’t like him either? He’s a stalker? How awful!

 

            “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

 

            _The outdoor band (more like an orchestra) that had been hired for their wedding started up. Harry led Hermione away from the table and they started dancing._

_She should’ve been happy. But her lack of memories was frightening her, as was that goddamn white door in her vision. She pulled away from Harry and picked up a knife from the nearest table._

_“What are you doing?” Harry asked her._

_“I have to know if this is real,” she replied. She sliced her hand open with the knife. Blood trickled out of the wound, crimson contrasting with her fair skin. She looked dismayed._

_“No pain,” she observed,_ which meant _, “none of this is real_.” _Petrified, she let the knife drop from her hands._

_Unperturbed, Harry turned her to face him and lifted her chin so she would look at him._

_“Can we finish the dance anyway?” he asked as the violins continued playing._

 

~CAPE~

 

            Ginny waited in the garage of the ARK holding facility for her boss to show up, rehearsing what she would say to him. The Cape was hiding in the, well, rafters, she supposed. He was supposed to wait for her signal before showing himself.

 

            Finally, Remus arrived.

 

            “Ginny, what’s the big emergency?” Lupin asked. Before she could answer, the Cape dropped down from his hiding space, landing in a crouch and startling the older man.

 

            “Remus, this is the Cape,” Ginny spoke quickly. Maybe if she spoke fast enough, the craziness of the situation wouldn’t occur to him. “He’s a friend of my son’s. He has his own comic book!

 

            “Cape, this is Remus Lupin, my boss.”

 

            Harry inclined his head towards the man in acknowledgment. He didn’t really care for Lupin. At least, the man was a rival for his son’s affection and possibly also his wife’s.

 

            “He needs to get inside and speak to Pius Thicknesse in Interrogation,” Ginny continued, oblivious to the jealousy emanating from the hero.

 

            “What?” Lupin stared at her. “We can’t help him. I’m not even Thicknesse’s attorney. He refused representation earlier.”

 

            “That doesn’t matter!” the Cape called down, ready to launch into an explanation of how imperative it was that he get inside. Before he could, Ginny shushed him, took Remus aside and started whispering to him. Harry caught a few words: _“Millions of people will die.”_

 

            Finally, apparently convinced, Remus turned to face the costumed man.

 

            “First of all,” Lupin began, “you’re wearing a mask and that’s strange.” Maybe it was just the mask that was making him feel somewhat intimidated. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to take it off and put on a suit and tie? No?” He sighed. “Alright, come on. We’ll use my keycard.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            Once inside the building, Lupin started giving the masked man instructions.

 

            “The guards follow a certain rotation. Once you get in, you’ll have about fifteen minutes before the next guard comes to check on him.

 

            “I expect you to follow standard police interrogation procedure.”

 

            “Thank you,” Harry rasped, as Lupin led him down a hallway.

 

            “Don’t thank me. I’m not doing this for you. When Ginny tells me something, I listen.”

 

            Harry’s eyes narrowed. He was Ginny’s husband, not Lupin. But he couldn’t exactly say that aloud.

 

            The Cape slipped into the interrogation room while Lupin watched from behind a one-way mirror.

 

            “Tell me where the Dark Lord is or I’m going to bash your head in,” the Cape threatened Thicknesse.

 

            Ginny, who had lagged behind, chose that moment to catch up to Lupin, closing the door behind her.

 

            “How’s he doing?” she asked.

 

            “Well, he definitely knows standard police procedure,” Lupin answered wryly.

 

~CAPE~

 

            “Your partner already tried to question me. If you’re going to play good cop, bad cop,” Thicknesse began.

 

            “He’s not my partner,” Harry interrupted the man, backing him up against the wall. It seemed it had been a lifetime since Malfoy had been his partner. “And I’m not a cop,” the vigilante continued. He was terribly close to the suspect now. If the former administrator wasn’t drugged, he’d probably be concerned about his well-being.

 

            Lupin, watching from the mirror, was getting nervous.

 

            “Easy, Cape; standard interrogation procedure,” he muttered. Since the Cape couldn’t hear him, it was about as useless as attempting to communicate telepathically, but he couldn’t help it.

 

            Lupin didn’t quite get a good look at what the Cape did next. It looked like he’d set off a flash grenade in front of Thicknesse’s face.

 

            “You and I are linked now,” the Cape intoned, imitating Sirius. “We’re going to go on a journey in your mind.

 

            “Did he just hypnotize him?” Lupin asked Ginny.

 

            “I serve the Dark Lord,” Thicknesse stated, sounding less coherent than he had a few moments ago.

 

            “As I wish to, too,” Harry assured him. “But I can’t if I don’t know where he is.”

 

            Alright, he kind of doubted that, even hypnotized, Thicknesse would fall for that trick, but it couldn’t hurt to try. When the Dark Lord’s follower wouldn’t answer, Potter tried a different tack.

 

            “What happened to your family?”

 

            “What about my family?” Pius asked.

 

            “Your wife, your children: No one’s heard from them in years. What happened?”

 

            “I…” Tears started forming in Thicknesse’s eyes. “I tried to baptize them in the name of the Dark Lord. But my master said they weren’t worthy. So they stayed buried.” The tears fell before he continued.

 

            “But I still serve my master and he has finally gone home.”

 

            “Home,” Harry repeated. It clicked. The old Riddle home, of course. “Sleep now,” he commanded Pius.

 

            Ginny laid her hand flat against the one-way mirror. On the other side of it, the Cape laid his gloved hand over hers, only the sheet of glass separating them.

 

            “Thank you, Mrs. Potter,” he rasped. The lights in the interrogation room flickered and went out. When they went back on a second later, ARK guards burst into the room.

 

            They found only Thicknesse, asleep against the wall.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Riddle looked at his reflection as Bellatrix helped him with his bowtie.

 

            “Bella,” Riddle began. “I’m practically a married man now. It’s not appropriate for an old woman to live with a married couple, so after the wedding, you’ll have to move out,” he told her. If he registered how insulted she was, he didn’t give a damn. Once her hands dropped to her sides, he strode from the room.

 

            Bellatrix hastened to wheel the blogger to the table where the Dark Lord was already seated.

 

            “A little meal before our wedding, I hope you enjoy it, my dear,” Tom smiled. Then he caught sight of the bowl in the middle of the table and his smile vanished.

 

            “What is that?”

 

            “A lemon centerpiece,” Bellatrix replied.

 

            “I asked for lilies,” Riddle hissed. Picking up the centerpiece he hurled it to the floor, where the bowl shattered.

 

            Bellatrix bent down to pick up the broken glass.

 

            “Is it too much to want lilies on the table on my wedding day?” he barked at her.

 

            She shook her head.

 

            “Do you hate me, Bella?” he demanded.

 

            “No, I don’t hate you. I serve you, my Lord!”

 

            “Well, you have a funny way of showing it!” He stormed out of the room and out of the building, intent on picking the flowers himself.

 

            After he’d left, Bellatrix turned on Hermione.

 

            “Do you see that? You don’t know how he gets! _I’m_ going to have to calm him down now!

 

            “He doesn’t love you. You’re just new. He’ll get bored with you,” just as he’d gotten bored with Bellatrix.

 

            “You’re just a slut. I hope you enjoy that dress,” Bellatrix continued. “I’m going to bury you in it!”

 

            Hermione’s only reaction was a slight twitch of her fingers in the direction of the I.V. tube inserted into her wrist.

 

~CAPE~

 

            _Hermione was once more dressed in the wedding gown that her friends had helped her pick out. Now she and her bridesmaids were standing outside the church, waiting for the ceremony to begin._

_Maria looked down the path._

_“Hermione,” the bridesmaid spoke up, “your father is here.”_

_“What?” Hermione froze. That was impossible. But she turned around and sure enough, there was her father._

_Severus Snape was walking straight towards her, a smile on his face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously there is some overlap between this and “Leap for the Cape,” but that’s to be expected.
> 
> This chapter has not been beta’d, so if there are errors, let me know.
> 
> -Fans Are Fighters, Too. Suit Up; Fight Back.


	23. The Dark Lord Part Six: ’Til Death Do You Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe dealing with Snape wasn't so bad...

            “ _What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here!” Hermione wailed once she’d caught up to Snape._

_“I’m here to give you away. Isn’t that what fathers do?” Severus asked, his smile never wavering._

_“I don’t want you to be my father!”_

_“But I am, and no matter who you marry, you’ll always be my daughter. You can’t escape your genes, darling.”_

_“Where is mum?” Hermione asked. The rational part of Hermione, the part that knew this was a drug-induced dream, knew the dream version of her father couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. But the rational part of her had been struck silent by his appearance._

_“She’s where she’s always been,” he said at length._

_“What did you do to her?”_

 

            The Dark Lord put the flowers he’d picked into the brunette’s limp hands.

 

            “Your bouquet,” he explained, as if she could understand him. “It’s time.”

 

~CAPE~

 

            “You know, Potter,” Mad-Eye said, as he and Ron stood outside the gate of the Riddle home with the vigilante, “I usually don’t do two shows in one evening.”

 

            “Thank you for coming,” Harry said. His friends lifted their shotguns. He shook his head. “No, leave your dates here. The Dark Lord’s men are drugged. I don’t want you to shoot them.”

 

            “Then what are we supposed to do?” Ron asked.

 

            “I thought you were looking forward to busting some heads?”

 

~CAPE~

 

            Bellatrix wheeled Hermione down the aisle, towards where Riddle waited with the priest. Witnesses (some of them former patients of St. Mungos, others former employees, and all of them as high as a kite) were arranged in rows facing the front.

 

            _The musicians had moved inside. After her bridesmaids had marched into the chapel, Severus escorted Hermione down the aisle, towards where Harry, beaming, waited with the minister._

 

            “Do you, Summer Ferrin, take…”

 

            _“…Harry Potter to be your lawfully wedded husband?”_

_“I do,” Hermione answered._

 

            “And do you, Tom Riddle, take Summer Ferrin…”

 

            _“…to be your lawfully wedded wife?”_

_“I do,” Harry answered._

_“Then by the power invested in me, I now pronounce …”_

 

            “…you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the minister finished.

 

            The Dark Lord bent towards his bride, ready to kiss her. For the first time since the ceremony had begun, she moved—away from him.

 

            “HARRY!” Hermione blurted as she flinched away.

 

            “What did you say?” Riddle hissed. Anger made his veins throb. Even in her drugged state, the bride seemed to realize she’d made a mistake.

 

            “Tom—”

 

            “Don’t call me that!” the villain yelled. “Call me the Dark Lord. That’s what I am, so that’s what you should call me!” She didn’t love him after all. She’d only let him think that she had, when she was really in love with some tosser named Harry.

 

            “Bella, take her away. Give her twenty CCs of the paralytic, and then bury her!”

 

            Obediently, Lestrange wheeled the bride back down the aisle.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Ron kicked one of the Dark Lord’s followers down the stairs before the trio descended them into the basement of the house.

 

            “Feeling better?” Harry asked.

 

            Ron thought about it, and then nodded.

 

            The door they’d just come through slammed shut behind them, locking automatically. They would have to find another way out. As they proceeded searching the place, Harry informed them that Riddle’s father before him had been a chemist who had worked in that very house and reminded them about the deadly toxin Riddle had prepared.

 

            “Thanks for telling us this after we’ve gotten ourselves locked into a basement with no circulation,” Ron quipped.

 

            Moody frowned as he observed how dreary the setting was.

 

            “What kind of monster was born here?” he asked.

 

            “This kind,” Riddle responded, entering the room with two of his minions.

 

            As the Cape surged forward to confront the Dark Lord, Moody spoke to Ron.

 

            “You take the two on the left.”

 

            “…There are only two of them!” Ron pointed out. Still, he moved to intercept the nearest of them. “This is for Lavender!” he announced, as his fist made contact with the man’s head.

 

~CAPE~

 

            “You just had to try to steal him for yourself, didn’t you?” Bella accused the blogger. She didn’t notice when the young woman’s fingers, which had been twitching on and off all evening, finally grasped hold of the I.V. needle inserted in her wrist and yanked it out.

 

            Lestrange picked up a gag, one that had often been used on Tom as he was growing up in the Sanitarium, when the orderlies would restrain him. She brought it towards the reporter’s mouth.

 

            “Bite down, honey.”

 

            _Harry tried to spoon-feed his new wife._

_“Hermione, have some cake.”_

_She wouldn’t take it. She frowned._

_“You don’t know my name!” Her eyes went back to that mysterious door and this time, she walked up to it to open it._

_“Orwell!” Harry shouted, abandoning use of her real name since she’d pointed out that his real self was not supposed to have this information._

_“I have to know,” she said, half to herself, as she pulled the door open to see what was on the other side._

 

            Bellatrix had decided to forgo use of the gag after all. Didn’t matter; the whore was already stoned; she wasn’t likely to scream much as she was injected.

 

            Lestrange lifted up the syringe, but was stopped by Hermione’s hand seizing her arm.

 

            “You want him?” Hermione Snape asked. “You can have him!” Her hand over the nurse’s, she drove the paralytic into Bellatrix’s neck.

 

            But the exertion was too much for her, and Hermione slumped to the floor afterwards.

 

~CAPE~

 

            “I should warn you,” the Dark Lord addressed his masked opponent, “one of the side-effects of my condition is that I can’t feel pain.” He demonstrated this by casually picking up a knife and slicing his hand open, unknowingly imitating Hermione’s act in her dream.

 

            Harry looked behind Riddle and formulated a plan.

 

            “When you wake up,” Harry began, “you tell me if you felt this!” He flung out his cape and grabbed hold—not of Riddle, but of the armoire behind the man, and brought it crashing down on the monster.

 

            Once the Dark Lord was knocked out, the Cape ran off in search of Orwell.

 

            “Orwell!” he cried. “Orwell!”

 

            Hermione looked up.

 

            _She saw Harry, her groom, kneeling over her._

_“Are you okay?” he asked_.

 

            She couldn’t see the mask he was wearing or the costume that went with it; couldn’t see past the hallucination of him in her mind’s eye.

 

            “Harry, you were here all along, weren’t you?” she asked, as he lifted her up. She passed out in his arms.

 

~CAPE~

 

            Ginny unlocked the door of her apartment, and was surprised to see her son waiting up for her.

 

            “Al, what are you doing up? It’s,” she checked her watch, “ten o’clock!” It felt later than that. Even so, the ten-year-old should’ve gone to bed.

 

            “Mum, how did it go?” Al asked.

 

            She sighed and sat down next to him.

 

            “It…went well. I think he got what he needed,” she reported.

 

            “He’s pretty cool, isn’t he?” Al asked, smiling. Ginny nodded.

 

            “Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” she agreed. Her conscience attacked her. “Al, I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you when you’d said you’d seen the Cape. I should’ve listened to you.”

 

            “Mum, I don’t know if I can forgive you,” Al said solemnly. “But, an extra-large pizza, with pepperoni, might help your case.”

 

            “You want pizza at this hour?” Ginny exclaimed. Then she remembered that she’d left with the Cape before putting up dinner. Although Al could’ve taken something from the fridge, like that egg salad she’d found. It had looked kind of disgusting, though…

 

            “Alright,” she relented, getting up to call the pizzeria, “but just this once!”

 

~CAPE~

 

            The next day, back at Trolley Park, Moody tipped tea into the brunette’s mouth. Hermione swallowed some, and then spluttered.

 

            “What is that stuff?” she demanded as she sat up on the Carnival’s couch.

 

            “It’s a special blend; has healing properties,” Moody grunted. “Of course, it did kill Alexander the Great, but those Greeks tend to overdo things.” He reached for his flask and took a swig of whiskey.

 

            Hermione looked around and spotted Harry.

 

            “What happened?” she asked him.

 

            “I took Riddle back to Owl Island. The Dark Lord won’t be bothering anyone again.

 

            “But he’s still the heir to his family’s property (may he enjoy it from prison), so Snape won’t be able to buy the docks from the city.” She’d been successful, though the victory had come at a hard price.

 

            “That just leaves one mystery,” Moody interjected, putting away his flask “Who is this young lady?”

 

            “Mad-Eye, I told you. She’s…” Harry trailed off, wishing he had a real name to put with her face. “A friend,” he said at last. “She’s a friend.”

 

            Hermione looked between Harry and Moody. They were her friends; they had saved her life. She couldn’t tell them who she was, but there was something she could tell Moody. He deserved that much.

 

            “I’m Orwell,” she admitted, looking Moody in the eye.

 

            He whistled.

 

            “That’s quite a secret you kept, Potter.”

 

            “I learned from the best,” Harry replied.

 

            Moody took Hermione’s hand and kissed it.

 

            “Welcome, Orwell, to the Carnival of Crime.”

 

            He left the tent afterwards. Harry took his cape and wrapped it around Orwell’s shoulders.

 

            “Rest,” he instructed her.

 

            She nodded and went back to drinking the tea. It might be foul-tasting, but if it kept the hallucinations from coming back, it was a small price to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m ending episode 8 there. I’m the one typing this version and I say enough of the bloody door already! Newsflash NBC: No one wants Orwell to be a few bats short of a belfry.
> 
> Once again, this chapter has not been beta’d.
> 
> Thanks to Dragomir for providing another of Revolting's sponsors to boycott: Droid. In regards to Dragomir’s review (on FFN), of course I would never want to discourage anyone from donating to Toys for Tots. I merely want to discourage Toys R Us and other businesses from sponsoring Revolting. I believe toys can be purchased from other vendors and then donated, but correct me if I’m wrong.
> 
> Anyone looking forward to the HP version of Razor? You know what to do.


	24. Carrow Part One: Gang War

            Ginny Potter was walking her son home from school one afternoon. They were currently in the business district of Palm City.

 

            “So, how did your history report go?” she asked.

 

            “It went well,” Al shrugged.

 

            “It did?” Ginny asked him. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he could do well, but she had to make sure he was applying himself.

 

            “Yeah; can I play X-Box when we get home?” the ten year-old asked.

 

            “After you do your homework,” his mother replied.

 

            “Mum, you have to give my brain a rest—” Al argued, as they began to cross the street in front of the local library. Their apartment building was merely a couple of blocks away.

 

            As they started across, a gold-colored car drove up. A tattooed hand emerged from one window, bearing a semi-automatic rifle. A second hand with an identical gun followed it—both were aimed at the two ARK officers opposite them.

 

            Al and Ginny were perilously close to the line of fire. As bullets started flying, Ginny dragged her son down behind a parked car to shelter him. Stray shots hit the car they were crouching behind, shattering windows and spraying the two Potters with falling glass.

 

            When it was over, an ARK officer lay dead and the gunmen drove away.

 

            “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Ginny demanded.

 

            “I’m fine,” Al assured his mother, as they stood up. She still looked worried and checked him over for injuries, but found none. Apparently the shots had all missed him, much good that that did her blood pressure. Her heart was still pounding from the terror.

 

INSERT THEME MUSIC

 

            “And you say you didn’t get a look at the driver or his license plate?” the ARK officer asked Ginny. He hadn’t been one of the ones shot at, but had arrived on the scene after the gunmen had already departed to take statements from the witnesses. He was looking at Ginny as if she was trying to give him a hard time.

 

            She hadn’t been, but she would be happy to give him one now.

 

            “What are you saying?” the redhead demanded, her eyes flashing. His attitude was pissing her off.

 

            “Mrs. Potter, this is normally a quiet area—”

 

            “Quiet? Let me ask you something: Do you live around here?”

 

            “Well, no…” he admitted.

 

            “I do. I’m a public defender. I have been representing clients arrested in this escalating gang war against ARK. Those shooters were aiming at ARK officers, which we both know is the only reason you’re investigating this damn incident! My son was almost _killed_ in _your_ gang war. So don’t tell me this area is safe!” Ginny grabbed Al’s arm and led him towards home, leaving behind one intimidated cop.

 

            She didn’t realize they had forgotten Al’s backpack behind on the sidewalk, nor did she see a hooded figure emerge from a nearby bench to collect the bag after they’d left.

 

~TC~

 

            That night, Severus Snape met Gilderoy Lockhart out by the docks.

 

            “There was a shooting on Sycamore Boulevard today,” Snape began. “It was thuggish, brutal and I immediately thought of you.”

 

            Goldilocks didn’t deny the accusation. He saw no reason for Snape, a.k.a. Chess, to have complete control of the city.

 

            “One of my officers is in a morgue thanks to you!” Snape continued.

 

            “Odd, one of my men showed up recently with his head missing. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you, Snape?” Gilderoy asked.

 

            “In a cooler at ARK Tower,” Severus replied dryly. If Goldilocks thought he was going to accept the retaliation as part of the status quo, he was mistaken.

 

            “Straightforward and ruthless, I like that about you, Snape. But if you came here to ask me to be your friend—”

 

            “I’ve no interest in being your friend,” the CEO cut him off. “Let’s be enemies! But let’s do it in a way that helps both of us.”

 

            “I’m listening,” Goldilocks crossed his arms over his chest.

 

            “The business district, from ARK Tower to Sycamore, is _mine_. You can have the rest of the city.”

 

            “I don’t think I’ve heard you correctly,” the blonde put in, his eyes narrowed. What sort of game was Snape playing?

 

            “Palm City could use a ‘godfather’ figure. A little fear is a good thing; it will drive the people closer to me. And the business district is the only part of the city the press cares about. Your men can operate in the rest of the city, as long as I collect twenty percent of the take,” Snape offered.

 

            _Severus, let me out_ , Chess drawled.

 

            Snape rubbed at his temple, distracted by the unexpected interruption. The gesture did not go unnoticed by Gilderoy, though the smuggler was unaware of the voice that had spoken.

 

            “Are you alright, Snape?” Goldilocks asked.

 

            “I’m fine,” he lied. If he were fine, he wouldn’t have the voice in his head.

 

            _It’s time to pull over. Let me drive,_ Chess murmured. Severus closed his eyes for a moment. That voice should not be so bloody tempting.

 

            _He doesn’t respect you! Let me talk to him_ , Chess pushed his advantage.

 

            Severus wavered. He didn’t want to give up control, but Chess could be persuasive.

 

            “Those are my terms. What’s it going to be?” the billionaire demanded.

 

            “Hmm, I like the sound of ‘godfather.’ Alright, Severus, you have a deal,” Goldilocks replied. They shook on it.

 

~HP~

 

            Back at his hideout, Harry Potter was rifling through his son’s backpack, his thoughts a whirl. He felt so helpless. He hadn’t gotten to the scene until _after_ his wife and son were nearly killed. Damn Snape! Their blood would have been on his hands.

 

            “There was a shootout on Sycamore today,” Harry informed his partner, who was sitting at his computer. “ARK officers were the targets but Ginny and Al were nearly killed in the crossfire. And they were only a couple of blocks from their home!”

 

            “The gang war is being stepped up,” Hermione replied, not looking away from the screen where she was playing Solitaire. “No part of the city is safe anymore.”

 

            “I want you to see what information you can find about the gang, the shooters—”

 

            “In a minute,” the blogger replied, as she made another move in her game.

 

            “What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked. “My family was nearly killed today and you’re playing a card game? You haven’t posted anything to your blog in the past four days.”

 

            “Yeah, well I married a corpse. Shouldn’t I get a honeymoon?” Hermione snapped back. She didn’t mean to lash out at Harry, but she hadn’t gotten over her ordeal with the Dark Lord, yet. The man had kidnapped her, used paralytics and hallucinogens on her, had tried to force her to marry him, had nearly killed her…and her father hadn’t been there.

 

            He hadn’t rescued her, hadn’t swooped in to make everything right. He didn’t even know that any of it had happened to her. To make matters worse, thanks to her hallucinations she was now confronted with her feelings for the man that had rescued her.

 

            She had a crush on her partner. Maybe it was more than that, she could even be in love with him, and he was a married man, doing his best to get back to his family. She didn’t feel much like being his sidekick at the moment.

 

            “I have to go, Harry,” Hermione said, as she headed out the door.

 

            Before Harry could decide whether he should go after Orwell, Tonks came rushing through the entrance, her hands covered in crimson.

 

            “Tonks, is that your blood?” Harry asked.

 

            “It’s not mine, its Ron’s. He’s badly hurt, Harry! Come with me, quick!”

 

~HP~

 

            Inside the tent at Trolley Park, Harry grimaced at the sight of his best friend. Ron’s face was covered in blood, but he was alive and awake. Moody was tending to his injuries.

 

            “What happened, Ron?” Harry asked.

 

            “Goldilocks’ men; they think Mad-Eye’s the mayor of Trolley Park. They want to muscle in; said Mad-Eye has to start paying him protection money.”

 

            “Looks like we’ve stayed here too long,” Sirius pronounced.

 

            Tonks turned to look at him, her eyes wide.

 

            “What? We live in a tent for a reason,” Sirius added.

 

            “Black has a point. We don’t put down roots,” Moody acknowledged.

 

            “Now wait a minute,” Harry said. Outside of the Carnival of Crime, the only person that knew that Harry Potter was still alive was his partner, Orwell. (He didn’t count enemies like the assassins, Fred and George.) Ron had become one of his best friends. Mad-Eye was his mentor. They couldn’t just leave him!

 

            “This doesn’t concern you, _cop_ ,” Sirius spat the last word as if it were an obscenity.

 

            “You know something,” Harry turned to Sirius, “there’s a lot around here that I pretend not to see. Maybe I should stop pretending!”

 

            “I don’t need this.” Sirius turned his back to Potter and addressed Mad-Eye. “I’m a thief, not a gang member. We don’t need to get involved in this war.” Finished talking, he stalked off.

 

            Tonks bit her lip and addressed their leader.

 

            “Are we pulling up stakes?”

 

~TC~

 

            The next day, Severus Snape paid a visit to Dr. Albus Dumbledore.

 

            “Your blood pressure’s high,” Dumbledore informed him, before removing the cuff from the billionaire’s arm. “Maybe you should have a lemon drop.”

 

            “I don’t want a lemon drop,” Severus declined. One of these days, he was going to lose his patience.

 

            “Alright, what’s bothering you?” Dumbledore asked, before plopping a lemon drop in his own mouth.

 

            “I had a visit from him: Chess.”

 

            “I see.”

 

            “Chess used to be an amusement, but we’ve grown apart,” Severus explained. “I mean that quite literally. He’s showing up unannounced now. I can’t have that.”

 

            “He?” Albus questioned.

 

            “I beg your pardon?”

 

            “You said ‘ _he.’_ You’re talking about Chess as if he’s a different person,” Dumbledore pointed out.

 

            “He started it,” Snape replied, the corner of his lips twitching.

 

            “I’d like to talk with him,” Dumbledore announced.

 

            “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Albus.”

 

            “Why wouldn’t it be? We’re not exactly strangers.”

 

            “He doesn’t like you,” Snape explained.

 

            Chess was suspicious of all therapists. He was not interested in someone trying to make him disappear or, for that matter, in any attempts to diagnose them as insane. (And if Dumbledore were to make the mistake of offering Chess a lemon drop, well, Chess couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.)

 

            “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m still going to have to have a chat with him, Severus. Doctor’s orders,” he insisted, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pleased to report that my beta, Dragomir, gave me the go ahead to post the original draft of this chapter. :)
> 
> Oh, look. I managed to write a version in which Orwell isn’t crazy. How about that?
> 
> Remember, if you want to read more, comment.


	25. Carrow Part Two: The Cape Is Watching

            “Ron, what are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be resting!” Harry berated his recently-injured friend.

 

            “I’m Mad-Eye’s ‘enforcer,’ Harry. I can’t just lay around the tent. I have to get out there and show Goldilocks that we’re not afraid of him.

 

            “You could help, you know.”

 

            “Me? I’m a little bit more concerned about my family being caught in a shootout.”

 

            “You’re the Cape. I’ve read the comic books. The real Cape would see that the attack on your family and the attack on me were connected—they’re both symptoms of this gang war—and he would be out there doing something about it!”

 

            Harry stared at the redhead.

 

            “Ron, that’s just a comic book! I’m not a superhero!”

 

            Tonks entered the tent then and frowned.

 

            “Harry, why did you let Ron get up? You know he should be in bed!”

 

            “He was…” Harry trailed off. How was it his fault that Ron was pushing himself too hard?

 

            “I just heard that Goldilocks is flying in Carrow,” Tonks informed them.

 

            “Who?” Harry asked.

 

            “Amycus Carrow: A bomb expert; sounds like things are getting serious,” she replied.

 

            Ron gave Harry a look, imploring him to do _something_ to try to act up to his moniker. Harry sighed.

 

            “What does Carrow look like?” he asked.

 

            “No one knows,” Tonks answered him.

 

            “How can no one know?” Harry asked skeptically.

 

            “He’s never left the U.K. before. All we know is that he has some kind of scar on his face,” she explained.

 

            The wheels in Harry’s head started turning.

 

            “And that’s it? Otherwise, as far as Goldilocks knows, he could look like anyone?” he asked. Tonks nodded. Harry turned to Ron.

 

            “I’m going to need a crash course in bomb making.”

 

~TC~

 

            One extremely compressed course later, Harry was waiting back at his hideout. Finally, the door opened and his partner strolled in.

 

            “You’re late. You said you’d be right over—that was two hours ago,” Harry complained.

 

            “Maybe it took me a little longer to get the stuff than I thought it would,” Hermione returned, completely unapologetic. She rolled up his shirt and started strapping a wire on. “It’s copper-flex wire. You shouldn’t have to worry about pat-downs, although obviously a strip search would give you away, as would a metal detector. Try to stay away from magnets.”

 

            She pulled away at last and, to her disappointment, Harry pulled his shirt back down. Her face flushed and she turned her back to him.

 

            “Orwell, what’s going on? I know your heart hasn’t been in the work lately.”

 

            “Drop it Harry,” she said quietly.

 

            “If you don’t work through whatever is bothering you, you won’t be able to protect the city from Snape!”

 

            Steps from the door, Hermione froze. That was part of the problem. She was no longer sure she wanted to keep fighting against her father. She faced Harry.

 

            “Get out of my head,” she said firmly, “or find a new partner.” With that, she turned and left.

 

~TC~

 

            Sirius entered Mad-Eye’s trailer.

 

            “My brother, Regulus, found a job for me upstate. It’s not great, but it’s a start. I’ve already started packing.”

 

            “Sirius,” Moody growled.

 

            “I’m leaving, Mad-Eye. I want my share of the Montecarlo heist before I go. You want to stay here with the cop, that’s your business.”

 

            “I’m a thief, same as you are, Black. Do I strike you as particularly patient, compassionate or charitable? I’m not! Angelo Dundee trained Muhammad Ali. Mad-Eye Moody has been training Harry Potter.”

 

            “Good for you, but—”

 

            “You never asked me what I was training him for!” Moody barked.

 

            “Whatever it is, it doesn’t concern me,” Sirius said, turning to leave the trailer.

 

            “Delacour,”* Moody said, stopping Black in his tracks.

 

            Sirius turned and stared at Mad-Eye. Then he shook his head.

 

            “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that to string me along so I won’t leave yet.”

 

            “Am I?” Moody asked.

 

            Before Sirius could reply, Harry barged through the door of the trailer.

 

            “I’ve got a plan to strike back at Goldilocks and ARK, but I need your help,” Potter announced.

 

            Sirius held Moody’s gaze for a moment before answering.

 

            “Well, I guess I’ll be staying around a little longer, then.”

 

~TC~

 

 

            One of Goldilocks’ men was driving Amycus Carrow from the airport to Lockhart’s warehouse. The street was deserted but for the car and a taxi that was gaining on them.

 

            “Do you have kids, Carrow?” the driver asked.

 

            The collision interrupted their conversation. The taxi, in an apparent attempt to pass the other vehicle, had crashed into it and now blocked the way. The taxi driver jumped out of the cab and started screaming at them in Russian.**

 

            “Speak English,” Goldilocks’ minion yelled back.

 

            Sirius Black went right up to the driver’s window, abruptly stopped shouting, and put him in a trance.

 

            “You picked him up from the airport and drove straight to the warehouse,” Sirius hypnotized the man, who was oblivious to what was happening in the backseat.

 

            When the gangster came to, Sirius and the cab were gone. He adjusted his rear view mirror and glanced back at his passenger.

 

            “So as I was saying…er, what was I saying?”

 

            “Just drive mate,” Harry told him, sounding impatient.

 

~TC~

 

 

            Goldilocks smiled as he entered the main room of the warehouse. The smuggler addressed the leather clad man sitting before him.

 

            “So you’re Carrow.”

 

            “Nah, I’m the freakin’ Dalai Lama,” Harry replied.  He’d slicked back his hair and had used makeup to create the illusion of a scar along the right side of his face. He was doing his best to disguise his voice. As long as he didn’t drop into a rasp, he was pretty sure Goldilocks wouldn’t put him together with the Cape.

 

            Hopefully pretending to be Carrow wouldn’t be too difficult.

 

            “I understand your exploits have made quite the number of headlines back in England,” Gilderoy said.

 

            “No more’n the headlines your organization makes over ‘ere,” Potter returned.

 

            “Quite right; forgive me, but that scar looks horrible. Was there nothing that could be done about it?”

 

            “Wouldn’t want to; chicks dig scars,” Harry said, winking.

 

            Lockhart beamed.

 

            “Do you know? I think you’ll fit right in! Smith, come here! Let’s show Carrow the space you set up for him.”

 

            The three men ascended the stairs to the second story of the warehouse and headed down a hallway to the makeshift laboratory.

 

            “Smith, did you get the bat guano?” Gilderoy asked, naming of one the rarer ingredients that Carrow had requested before leaving for Palm City.

 

            “Yes,” Smith asserted.

 

            Gilderoy wrinkled his nose as they entered the lab.

 

            “I tell you, Carrow, if it weren’t for your sterling reputation, I’d think you were mad. Anyhow, I’ll leave you to it.”

 

            Alone, Harry examined the space. Supplies had been set up on the table that dominated the room, but he was more interested in the cracked window that overlooked the lower level of the warehouse that he’d just come from.

 

            Yes, this would be the perfect place for spying on the smuggler.

 

~TC~

 

 

            Meanwhile, back at ARK Tower, Severus Snape sat in Dumbledore’s office. Albus had persuaded him to retrieve the box with Chess’ contacts from the penthouse. The doctor waited outside while Severus opened the box pensively. The billionaire looked at the cosmetic contacts. He still thought this was a bad idea, but…well, Chess had wanted a chance to drive.

 

            When Albus reentered his office, Chess was sitting behind the desk, waiting for him, an old fashioned pen in his hand.

 

            “Do you know,” Chess drawled, “that it would take about seven seconds for me to use this pen to sever one of your arteries? Removing, say, one of your corneas would take a little longer, about sixteen minutes.” He lifted his chin, silently daring the bearded man to give him a reason he shouldn’t do just that.

 

            Unperturbed, Dumbledore pointedly looked at his watch and counted to seven.

 

            “I seem to still have my corneas,” Albus observed. “So how about we talk about you and Severus? You know that Severus is unhappy when you just start talking to him like you did the other night. You want him to be happy, don’t you?”

 

            Chess sneered. Yes, he wanted Severus to be happy, but that didn’t mean he was going to disappear. Severus needed him.

 

            “There are doors that are currently closed to you,” Albus continued, “doors which I can open. Interested?”

 

            Chess lowered the pen slightly. Dumbledore had his attention.

 

~TC~

 

 

            Mad-Eye strolled into Goldilocks’ conference room. Ron had told Moody earlier that the smuggler had demanded a sit-down with him. Goldilocks thought he was the mayor of Trolley Park? Fine; then he’d act the part.

 

            Moody took a seat at the table. Goldilocks sat down, too. There were a few other men there, Zacharias Smith being one of them. Moody didn’t recognize the man in the purple turban.

 

            “This is Quirrell,” Goldilocks made the introductions.

 

            “P-pleased to m-meet you, M-Mad-Eye,” Quirrell said.

 

            “Quirrell suffered a brain injury as the result of an altercation a few years back. He’s been stuttering ever since,”*** Gilderoy explained to Moody.

 

            Quirrell, apparently, led a rival gang, but had negotiated a truce with Goldilocks. Gilderoy hoped to reach a similar arrangement with Mad-Eye.

 

            “How’s Carrot Top?” Goldilocks inquired, referring to Ron.

 

            “He’ll live, no thanks to your thugs,” Moody growled.

 

            “Ginger Spice**** had it coming,” Gilderoy asserted. “Trolley Park is prime real estate and you haven’t been paying taxes to me. From now on, you’re going to give me forty percent of everything you take in.”

 

            The magician stood up from the table.

 

            “Contact me again when you’re ready to make a serious offer. And consider this, Goldilocks: By profession, I make things disappear. Sometimes, they don’t come back.” With that, Mad-Eye threw down a smoke pellet and disappeared from the room.

 

            “I love it when he does that,” Goldilocks smiled.

 

~TC~

 

 

            Severus Snape opened his black eyes (no longer obscured by the blue contacts) and discovered that he was lying down on Dumbledore’s couch.

 

            “Welcome back,” Dumbledore said as Snape sat up.

 

            “What happened? How did it go with Chess?”

 

            “Chess won’t be bothering you anymore,” Dumbledore assured him, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.

 

            “Oh?” Snape raised an eyebrow. “What’s Chess getting out of that?”

 

            “Severus, listen to me: There is no Chess. There’s just you. You don’t have to distance yourself from the parts of you that are dark. There’s good and evil inside all of us.”

 

            “Right; what did you promise him?”

 

            “Severus, Chess is gone. Look inside yourself. Look for the place you usually sense Chess. What do you feel?”

 

            Obligingly, Snape closed his eyes and looked inwards. Then he opened his eyes, stunned.

 

            “There’s nothing there. I can’t feel him,” Snape admitted.

 

            “That is as close to a happy ending as we get in my profession,” Dumbledore said, smiling as he walked Snape to the door.

 

            The billionaire might have gotten his degrees in engineering, rather than psychology, but he was quite sure that you couldn’t get rid of a second personality by offering it tea and lemon drops and asking him to politely go away. Severus paused and looked at the older man.

 

            “Albus, I’ve known you a long time. I respect you. So I want you to heed me: _Never_ lie to me.” Snape spread his hands, communicating this wasn’t up to him. “I can only tell you that once,” he warned the doctor, before departing the office.

 

~TC~

 

 

            That evening, the Cape showed up to thwart a heist that Goldilocks’ and Quirrell’s gangsters had teamed up for. Harry had learned about the location and time of the plot by eavesdropping on the two leaders earlier in the day.

 

            Now the vigilante hoisted Smith up with his cape and told him to listen closely.

 

 

~TC~

 

 

            “He said _what_?” Gilderoy demanded of Smith, who had returned to the warehouse with news of the foiled plans.

 

            “He said: ‘Tell the Ken Doll that ARK may be blind, but the Cape is watching,’” Zacharias repeated.

 

            Goldilocks cursed.

 

            “How the hell does he know what I’m up to as soon as I do?” _Oh, great._ He could see Quirrell getting out of a car outside. He did not look happy.

 

            Lockhart left the warehouse to go greet Quirrell, who was carrying his turban in his hands.

 

            “What t-the hell h-happened to-tonight?” Quirrell demanded.

 

            “Now, it’s just a minor setback,” Goldilocks began.

 

            “R-really? B-because it sounds t-to me as though y-you’ve got a l-leak in y-your organization. I-if you d-don’t f-find it and plug it u-up, you can f-forget w-working together!” With that, Quirrell slammed his turban onto his head. Then he grimaced and pulled it off.

 

            “What t-the f-f-…?”

 

            Goldilocks looked from Quirrell’s head to the inside of the turban which, if he wasn’t mistaken, was covered in bat guano. The blonde narrowed his eyes.

 

            Meanwhile, in the shadows of the warehouse, Harry dumped an empty container in the rubbish bin.

 

~TC~

 

 

            The next day, Harry set up a miniature camera as Vernon Dursley from ARK entered the warehouse, demanding to collect the money that Goldilocks had promised Snape.

 

            Gilderoy handed Vernon an envelope full of cash. Dursley frowned.

 

            “This should be heavier,” he insisted.

 

            “We ran into some unforeseen difficulties, involving the Cape—”

 

            “I don’t want to listen to your excuses!” Dursley cut him off. “Whatever happened shouldn’t affect the weight of this envelope.

 

            “Look: You leave the business district alone, kick twenty percent of your take over to Snape and ARK, and the rest of the city is yours. That’s not only fair, that’s generous,” Dursley admonished the smuggler.

 

~TC~

 

            “What are you doing?” Smith asked Potter, who had been watching and recording the whole scene from above. Harry, turning away from the window, shrugged off the question.

 

            “Who is the Cape?” Harry asked.

 

            “None of your concern,” Smith muttered. “The right, huh?”

 

            “I beg your pardon?”

 

            “Your scar’s on the right side of your face,” Smith observed.

 

            “Yeah, so?” Harry asked.

 

            “It’s funny, ‘cause when you called, you said we’d recognize you at the airport ‘cause of the scar on the _left_ side of your face,” Smith informed him.

 

            “You must have misheard me,” Harry said.

 

            “For your sake, I better have. Now come on, Goldilocks wants to see you.”

 

            “I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

            “I don’t think you understood me. You’re coming, _now_!”

 

~TC~

 

 

            Back at Trolley Park, Sirius looked up at the noise he’d heard. He went to investigate the source of the sound and grimaced.

 

            The cage that they’d been keeping the real Carrow in was empty. The prisoner had managed to blow up the lock and he’d escaped.

 

            Now it was just a matter of time until Goldilocks discovered it wasn’t the real Carrow in his midst.

 

~TC~

 

 

            “You wanted to see me?” Harry asked Goldilocks.

 

            “Pack your stuff. We’re going to blow up Moody’s tent tonight. Maybe then he’ll learn how to respect the city’s Godfather.”

 

            “Not a bad plan, mate,” Harry said.

 

            Goldilocks’ dazzling smile faltered. He approached Potter.

 

            “It was your plan,” Gilderoy reminded ‘Carrow.’

 

            “Like I said, not a bad one,” Harry tried to cover his slip.

 

            “Right; Smith, escort our friend this way, please.”

 

~TC~

 

 

            Goldilocks had Harry sit at the conference table with Smith and some of his other men. In the center of the table was a cake. One piece of the cake was missing.

 

            “Smith, for your loyalty, you get a piece of cake,” Goldilocks said, putting a slice in front of him. Gilderoy proceeded to give out slices to his getaway drivers. Another slice was given to some slob sitting next to Harry, “for his fashion sense,” Gilderoy said jokingly.

 

            “You see, to get a piece of cake, you have to have demonstrated your trustworthiness. You’ll notice there’s a piece of cake missing,” Gilderoy announced to the room. “That’s because there’s a rat in our midst.”

 

            On cue, the real Amycus Carrow walked in. (Sure enough, the left side of his face was scarred.)

 

            Gilderoy whirled on Potter.

 

            “No cake for you. Get him!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The line in the episode was “Deveraux.” I am not elaborating on it in the text as it was one of the loose threads we were left with when the show was cancelled. However, Dragomir created a backstory for the character of Deveraux for her fic “Time Again.” With Dragomir’s permission, I have borrowed Deveraux for some of my fics, modifying the backstory where convenient.
> 
> **The Russian is a nod to Gary Oldman’s character in the 1997 movie: “Air Force One.” Do yourself a favor and rent it. (Yes, I mean you.)
> 
> *** I’ve checked, and while it may not be a common cause of stuttering, it does happen. 
> 
> **** Ugh, Spice Girls reference. I do hope that any redheaded readers will not take offense. I nearly went with Hendricks from “The Dresden Files,” but don’t know whether Gilderoy would have been familiar with the novels.
> 
> Thanks to Dragomir for beta-ing the chapter!
> 
> You know the drill.


	26. Carrow Part Three: Theatricality and Deception

          “He’s gone,” Sirius Black informed the other members of the Carnival of Crime. “Carrow has escaped.”

 

          “But,” Tonks’ eyes went wide, “if Goldilocks finds out Harry’s an imposter, he’ll torture him!”

 

          “We have to save him!” Ron didn’t like the idea of any harm befalling his friend.

 

          “Says who?” Sirius asked. If Potter was taken out, perhaps things would go back to normal.

 

          “Are you kidding?” Ron glared at the dark-haired man. “Harry’s our friend. If he’s tortured, they may find out his secret.” He shuddered. If his friend’s secret identity came out, Lockhart would have him killed for sure. “The Cape is a hero—”

 

          “Then let the Cape save him,” Sirius interrupted Weasley. He rather wished that they had never dragged Potter to Trolley Park in the first place.

 

          But his words gave Moody an idea.

 

          “Black is onto something; the Cape will save him,” Mad-Eye pronounced, confusing his followers. He explained to them his plan.

 

 

~TC~

 

 

          Back at the warehouse, the smuggler’s men had bound Harry to a chair and begun beating him up.

 

          Gilderoy was wondering who the imposter actually was. He had a theory on that.

 

          “The only way I can explain the Cape knowing what we were planning in advance,” Goldilocks mused aloud, advancing on the prisoner, “is that the black bird was hiding in our midst, spying on us. It’s you, isn’t it?

 

          “And you’re the one that pulled that little joke on Quirrell the other night. This next bit was his idea,” the smuggler added, holding up a container of acid.

 

          Harry trembled in fear. _Acid_ ; they were going to pour _acid_ on him? All he’d done was cover Quirrell’s turban in bat guano! They were seriously overreacting.

 

          Before Goldilocks could begin disfiguring the vigilante, the lights abruptly went out, plunging everyone into darkness. There was just enough light left for the men to make out the silhouette of a hooded figure near the control board. The figure rushed the thugs, knocking men out of his way. A familiar-looking cape pried the prisoner free from the chair, before rescuer and rescuee disappeared in a puff of smoke.

 

          Goldilocks digested this new information. It appeared he’d been wrong. Whoever had been pretending to be Carrow was not the Cape after all, but the smuggler now had another suspect in mind.

 

 

~TC~

 

 

          Back in Mad-Eye’s trailer, Harry expressed his gratitude to his savior. Potter knew that if Mad-Eye hadn’t shown up in the nick of time with the cape, he’d be a goner.

 

          “Thank you for saving me, Mad-Eye!”

 

          “You’re welcome, Potter,” the Carnival’s ringleader nodded. He and Tonks had already looked the young man over for injuries. It appeared he was relatively unscathed and would be able to go back to acting as the vigilante whenever he wanted. Moody gestured the hero towards the door.

 

          Harry stopped and made eye contact with his mentor, his expression earnest.

 

          “Mad-Eye, I don’t forget,” Harry insisted. He wasn’t like Snape, who, far from being grateful, had put a price on the head of his rescuer within a week. Harry knew when he owed someone and he intended on paying his debts. He tried to convey that to the man who had just saved his life.

 

          Satisfied that the message was received, Harry left the trailer at last. Unbeknownst to him, Mad-Eye already knew just what he would ask Potter to do for him in return.

 

 

~TC~

 

 

          Harry, back at his hideout, sat in front of his computer with a phone pressed to his ear. He couldn’t wait to tell Orwell the good news.

 

          “Hello, Orwell? I’ve got it!” Harry grinned. “I’ve finally got the evidence that will bring Snape down. I’m uploading the exclusive video to your blog now.” His heart soared as he posted the video he’d taken of Vernon Dursley accepting money from Goldilocks. This was the break he’d been looking for. This, surely, would send him home in no time.

 

          “Snape’s history,” Harry told his partner.

 

 

~TC~

 

 

          Hermione eyed the empty beer bottles around her as she replied to him.

 

          “That’s great, Harry,” she mumbled, before cutting the connection. The news that her secret crush might be able to head back to his wife and that her father was about to be in hot water did nothing to lift her spirits.

 

          Maybe her father had it coming, but the thought of her blog being his downfall no longer appealed to her.

 

          She went off in search of more beer. She would rather feel numb than depressed.

 

~TC~

 

          The next morning, Albus Potter sighed as he retrieved the backpack left for him on the fire escape. He had no excuse for not doing his assignments now. Probably just as well. He didn’t think his teacher would believe “the Cape stole my homework.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the HP version of episode nine.
> 
> Thanks to Dragomir, my beta, for giving me the green-light to post the chapter!
> 
> Everyone recognize the source of the chapter title? 
> 
> -Suit up; fight back.


	27. Endgame Part One: Déjà vu

            Ginny and Al were riveted, watching the evening news. The anchor reported that a video had surfaced implicating ARK Corporation in an organized crime scandal,

 

            _“Which may go all the way to the top,”_ the blonde reported cheerfully, seemingly having forgotten that it was Severus Snape that owned her television station. She was utterly unaware that reporting the story could put more than her job on the line…

 

            But killing her wouldn’t do him any good now, Snape mused, as the video of Lockhart and Dursley came on the screen.

 

            _"I don't want to listen to your excuses!" Dursley cut him off. "Whatever happened shouldn't affect the weight of this envelope. Look: You leave the business district alone; kick twenty percent of your take over to Snape and ARK, and the rest of the city is yours. That's not only fair, that's generous," Dursley admonished the smuggler_.

 

            The video had been released online first; who knew how many citizens had seen it before the reporters had caught on and rushed to get their ‘scoop’ on the air? It was far too late to make the video vanish. He’d simply have to explain it away, instead.

 

 

~HP~

 

            “Why aren’t you smiling?” Harry asked his partner the next morning. The two were standing towards the back of the crowd at Severus Snape’s press conference. Harry had expected Orwell to be thrilled that they’d finally accomplished their mission; Snape was as good as destroyed.

 

            Hermione shushed him, still unable to explain to Harry that that was her father at the podium, her _father_ that she had strived so tirelessly to bring down. Now that he was on the brink of toppling, she found she couldn’t bear it. Oh, Merlin, how had they come to this point?

 

            “While I am as shocked as all of you,” Severus addressed the crowd, “this does confirm what I have suspected for months: Officials high up in ARK Corporation are involved with organized crime. I take full responsibility for this,” he lied smoothly, the thought of turning himself in never crossing his mind.

 

            “I only ask,” Snape continued, “that you give me time to complete my internal investigation. As we speak, my men are about to make an arrest.”

 

            “What’s he playing at?” Harry frowned. Their proof had been irrefutable; surely Snape wasn’t about to evade justice _again_?

 

            “Buckle up,” Hermione replied, her mind racing as she tried to read her father’s. “Chess is about to make his countermove.”

 

 

~DM~

 

            “Why aren’t you at the press conference?” Astoria asked her husband. “You’re the Chief of Police; you should be making a statement, too.”

 

            “Snape told me to stand down and wait for instructions,” Draco replied as their son, Scorpius, finished his breakfast, and went to go play with his toy dinosaurs on the windowsill.

 

            “So you _are_ nothing more than his puppet?” Astoria asked, earning a glare.

 

            “Don’t you dare talk to me that way! And don’t you presume to tell me how to do my job!”

 

            “Well, I don’t see you doing it! Maybe this position wasn’t worth it, Draco. It’s done nothing but bring us trouble—”

 

            Neither of them noticed the officer outside their window put a finger to his lips, indicating for Scorpius to remain silent and not give him away.  They did notice a minute later when the door burst open and half a dozen uniformed and armed men swarmed the Malfoy residence.

 

            “GET DOWN!” sounded through the air. Draco, uncomprehending, dropped to his knees, his hands raised to show he wasn’t armed. He addressed Yaxley.

 

            “What the, what are you doing? What’s going on?”

 

            “Draco Malfoy,” Yaxley smiled, “you’re under arrest.”

 

 

INSERT THEME MUSIC

 

            “You SON OF A BITCH!” Malfoy screamed, as Severus Snape walked into the visitor’s room at the ARK Detention Facility. “They came into my house, waving guns in front of my family because of you! You had me arrested—”

 

            “I’m doing you a favor,” Snape said, as he lowered himself into the chair across from Malfoy. “Now you’ll have an opportunity to be useful.”

 

            “You piece of—!”

 

            “Careful,” Snape cut him off. “Consider, Draco, that this can play out two different ways. One, you decide to testify against me, but before you can, your body is found hanging in your cell, suspended from the ceiling by your bed sheets. No doubt your suicide is due to your overwhelming grief from the tragic loss of your wife and your son.

 

            “Or two, you keep your mouth shut, take the fall, serve your time in prison and I will have your family provided for. While you’re thinking it over, keep in mind that your own lawyer won’t take your calls, so Astoria can stop trying to ring her. Not that Astoria would be able to pay her fees at the moment, as I’ve had all your assets frozen.”

 

            “You can’t do that,” Malfoy insisted. “You don’t have that power!”

 

            “The District Attorney has that power and I own the D.A. Do the math. You complain that your house was invaded,” Severus sneered. “This is _my_ house,” he declared, gesturing around the Detention Facility, but implying the whole of the city. With that pronouncement, he headed for the door.

 

 

~GP~

 

            “You shouldn’t have come, Ginny,” Malfoy said, suppressing a sigh at his latest visitor.

 

            “How does it feel, Malfoy? To be framed as Harry was framed?”

 

            “Ginny—”

 

            “I know that you were! I’m not going to sit back and watch it happen. Maybe I couldn’t save Harry, but I can help you!”

 

            “Guard!” Malfoy rapped on the door. The guard outside opened it, looking at Malfoy questioningly.

 

            “No one else will help you, Malfoy! I’m the only one you have!” the redhead insisted. Resigned, the blonde gestured for the guard to close the door. Draco turned back to the attorney.

 

            “You’ve already been convicted by the press,” Ginny added, as if Malfoy needed reminding. “Al has to live with everyone thinking and saying the worst about his father. If you don’t do something, your son will, too.”

 

            “Ginny,” Malfoy shook his head. “I wouldn’t want Scorpius to know about half of the things I’ve done.”

 

            She blinked.

 

            “My hands aren’t clean. I just, I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t let anything happen to my family and he threatened them—”

 

            “Who? Snape?” she asked. “Malfoy, if you testify against him—”

 

            “I’ll die. And so will Astoria, and so will Scorpius. No,” he shook his head. “We’d be killed, the same way Harry was killed. I can’t put my family in danger, Ginny, surely you can respect that.”

 

            “I can’t respect anything that would let Harry’s killers escape justice,” Ginny replied. “But you don’t have to make your mind up about cooperating right now. The first thing I’ve got to do is start on your bail application.”

 

            “You would help me, even if I can’t help you in return?” Malfoy questioned.

 

            “Malfoy, you were the best man at our wedding. You’re family and I believe in sticking by family.” The fact that she hadn’t heard from some of her brothers in ages wasn’t her fault. They were the ones that had dropped off the map. “I think the right thing to do—for society as well as yourself—is to cooperate with the government, tell them who is really behind all this. But you’re the client; the decision is up to you. I’ll be in touch about the bail.

 

            “In the meantime, sit tight. Prison may suck, but it can also be the safest place to be.”

 

 

~SS~

 

            Gilderoy Lockhart arrived at Madame Malkin’s to find the proprietress fitting Severus Snape for a new suit.

 

            “Can’t you get her to come to you?” Gilderoy inquired.

 

            “Madame Malkin has worked for royalty. Clients go to her.”

 

            “I see. Should we be seen together now?” Goldilocks asked. “Might make the front page; after all, that damning video is still fresh in everyone’s minds.”

 

            “If you’ll recall, your face is in that video, not mine,” Severus drawled.

 

            “Ah, but that video portrays me as the victim,” Gilderoy countered. “The poor businessman being shaken down for money, tut, tut, people can relate to that. Your corporation on the other hand…”

 

            “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Severus replied.

 

            “Then why am I here?” Gilderoy asked.

 

            “Madame Malkin,” Severus said, as he stepped down from the stool, “please fit this gentleman next. I’ll cover the bill.”

 

            “How thoughtful, Severus,” Gilderoy said, as he ascended the stool, “and a good way to try to buy my silence, but I still doubt that’s why I’m here.”

 

            “Firstly,” Severus began, “there’s a lawyer, Potter—she’s stirring up trouble, trying to convince Malfoy to talk.”

 

            “And you want her killed?”

 

            “Don’t be daft. I don’t need her to be a martyr. Just scare her off.”

 

            “Consider it done. What else? There must be other thorns in your side you want taken care of. The Cape comes to mind.”

 

            _He tends to do that_ , Severus mused.

 

            “Yes, I’ve been thinking about our vigilante problem. Him you can take out.”

 

            Chess had wanted the Cape dead. Severus hadn’t heard a word from Chess since the last visit with Dumbledore. Perhaps that should have been a relief, but he found that he missed Chess’ insights. He didn’t believe Albus about Chess being gone forever.

 

            If the Cape died, maybe Chess would come back.

 

            “With pleasure,” Lockhart replied. “There’s just one thing. If I do this, then in the future _you’ll_ be paying _me_ , not the other way around.”

 

            “Alright, but if the lawyer doesn’t take your warning to heart, I want Malfoy eliminated, too.”

 

            “Buy one murder, get one free, eh?” Lockhart flashed his teeth in a grin. “I think that can be arranged.”

 

 

~HP~

 

            “Harry,” back at the hideout, Hermione frowned at the computer screen. “A large sum of money just changed hands, wired to Gilderoy Lockhart’s account. The kind of money that you pay to have someone killed,” she added.

 

            “Do you know who the target is?” Harry asked.

 

            “It could be anyone—Malfoy, you, Ginny…”

 

            “Ginny?” Harry asked, alarmed.

 

            “Didn’t you hear? Ginny’s taking Malfoy’s case. Trying to protect him from Snape is like hurling yourself in front of a buzz saw. Where are you going?” she asked, as she saw him grab his cape. “Are you going to convince her to drop the case?”

 

            “Me? I couldn’t even persuade her to switch to generic aspirin,” Harry replied.

 

            “Then where…?”

 

            “I’m going to throw myself between my wife and the buzz saw,” Harry explained.

 

            Worried for his safety, Hermione watched him go. This vendetta against her father was too dangerous, she saw that now. That contract could very well have been taken out on Harry’s life. She had to make sure Lockhart couldn’t carry it out.

 

            She had some calls to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the “Harry Potter and the Carnival of Crime” version of “Endgame.” 
> 
> Thanks to Dragomir for betaing the chapter!
> 
> Well, like Hermione said, “Buckle up.”


	28. Endgame Part Two: Time Is Running Out

            “Ginny, you can’t represent Malfoy,” Lupin said, taking a seat across from Ginny in the conference room that evening.

 

            “You can’t take me off the case,” Ginny declared, lifting her chin.

 

            “Yes, I can, I’m your boss,” Remus pointed out, “and you’re too close to it, between him being your friend and…” he trailed off, not wanting to poke at a wound. He saw the same parallels to what had happened to Harry as Ginny did.

 

            “That’s why you’ll be helping me,” the redhead answered, undeterred. “You’re not too close to it. You won’t lose perspective.”

 

            Remus couldn’t think of a counterargument, so he sighed as he watched Ginny gather up her things and prepare to head home.

 

            “I’m sure I’m forgetting something and will wind up calling you in five minutes,” Mrs. Potter remarked, earning a smile from her employer.

 

            “Why should this night be any different from every other night?” Lupin quipped, as she headed out the door.

 

            Sure enough, a few minutes later Lupin’s phone rang. He answered it, assuming it was Ginny and wondering what had slipped her mind this time. His amusement was chased away by a cold feeling of dread as the disguised male voice spoke.

 

            _“Tell the redhead this is just a warning. If she doesn’t drop the case…_ ”

 

            Lupin didn’t stick around to hear the rest of the threat. He grabbed the first thing he could and ran towards the parking lot.

 

* * *

 

 

            Ginny picked up her pace in the parking lot. She sensed she wasn’t alone. Suddenly, a man jumped out to attack her—

 

            —And was promptly sent flying into the windshield of one of the cars by a now familiar piece of fabric.

 

            Once the threat had been neutralized, her pulse started to slow. Before she could thank her rescuer, Lupin jogged over carrying…

 

            “Is that a stapler?” Ginny asked.

 

            “It was the first thing I grabbed,” Remus replied, defensively.

 

            “What were you thinking, letting her take that case?” the Cape rounded on Lupin.

 

            “Excuse me?” Lupin asked.

 

            “You knew it was going to put her in danger. You saw what just happened here—and why did you let her walk to her car alone?”

 

            “Hello, I’m right here!” Ginny said, indignantly.

 

            “She wanted to take the case,” Lupin said. “Do you know what she’s like when her mind is made up?”

 

            The vigilante started to nod, and then caught himself. He scowled.

 

            “And you think you do?”

 

            “Hey!” Ginny protested. “Alright, we’ve established that I’m stubborn. Now, take it easy. I’m not going to drop the case just because some thug was sent after me. Understand?”

 

            Harry listened as his partner’s words came over his earpiece, before addressing his wife.

 

            “We need to have Malfoy transferred to federal custody. My friend is setting up a proffer session.”

 

            “What—I’m perfectly capable of contacting the feds myself,” Ginny began.

 

            “I’m sure you are, but we need to move fast—faster than,” he cut himself off.

 

            “Than who?” Ginny asked.

 

            “Just trust me, there’s no time to waste. Get Malfoy to do the proffer session tomorrow, and then we’ll get him and his family the hell out of Palm City before it’s too late.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The next day, Ginny headed into the Detention Facility, ready to visit Malfoy and tell him about the meeting scheduled with the Assistant United States Attorneys.

 

            She was _not_ ready to be told that her client was not in his cell, he was in the process of being released on bail. She paled.

 

            “That’s impossible,” she told the officer. She hadn’t submitted his bail application; she hadn’t finished it yet. And between what had happened last night and the upcoming meeting today… “No one was posting his bail. He was supposed to…” Why was she wasting time talking to this man? She spotted Malfoy being escorted out of the building by two guards and chased after him.

 

            “Malfoy!” she called. “I told you to sit tight! What happened?”

 

            “I don’t know,” he replied, feeling as anxious as she was as he was led outside. A crowd of reporters had gathered, somehow tipped off about his release. Hidden amongst them, a sniper took aim…

 

            “GET DOWN!” the Cape roared, seemingly materializing out of thin air. He threw Ginny and Malfoy to the ground and covered them as bullets flew in their direction. When the shooting stopped, he let them up.

 

            Camera flashes went off around them as reporters got their first glimpse of what, until that point, had been only a rumor—the Cape. The Cape’s green eyes scanned the crowd for a moment, trying and failing to spot the would-be assassin. Finally, he tossed down a couple of smoke pellets.

 

            When the smoke had cleared, the Cape, Ginny Potter and Draco Malfoy were gone.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Welcome,” Moody greeted Ginny and Malfoy when they arrived. “Hagrid, a friend of mine, has graciously allowed us to use his store for the time being.”

 

            Harry went right past his mentor and made a bee-line straight for his partner.

 

            “We need to get them out _now_ ,” he insisted, “before Snape—”

 

            “Sets up blockades around the city?” Hermione asked. “It’s too late for that.”

 

            Harry cursed.

 

            “But,” Orwell continued, “the AUSAs got here first. We do the proffer session, get Malfoy to enter that deal, and the feds will escort Malfoy out of the city themselves. Snape won’t be able to do a thing about them pulling jurisdiction on him.”

 

            “They’re here now?” Harry asked, a hand affirming that his mask was still in place as he glanced about in search of the prosecutors.

 

            “Right this way,” the brunette replied. Before she led him to them, she held up a hand. “Harry, about the deal…”

 

            “Yes?”

 

            “Malfoy is not to volunteer Chess’ identity or—”

 

            “You can’t be serious? _That’s_ what will get him the best deal. Hell, _that_ ’s what will clear my name!”

 

            “It’s also what will get him killed,” Orwell said, quietly but firmly, “along with his family and perhaps yours.” She took a step closer to her friend and ignored the voice in her head saying _it’s also what will destroy your father_. If she hadn’t told Harry who her father was when she needed the Cape’s help to save him from Dice, she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him the secret now.

 

            “If Malfoy talks about Snape, he won’t be safe anywhere. Chess will hunt him down. But if Malfoy leaves Snape out of this, Snape won’t follow him. He’ll let it go. If you want to save your friend, Harry, you’ll tell him to leave Chess out of this. You know I’m right.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “So, let me get this straight,” Draco began. “In order to protect myself, I need to protect Snape. That’s what you want me to do?” the blonde asked that evening.

 

            “It’s not that I _want_ it,” the Cape let out an aggravated sigh, as the two men stood alone, conversing on the roof. “I just don’t see another option. If Chess knows you’re ratting him out, jurisdiction or no jurisdiction, he’ll have you murdered at the first checkpoint.”

 

            “Maybe that’s what I deserve,” Draco mused, gazing out at the city. “You know, I’m not that good a guy. I’m not like you or Harry—it’s my fault he’s dead.

 

            “I knew it was a trap and I let Potter walk right into it. But you know, right up until he was knocked out, I had a plan. I was going to pull my weapon and help Potter and we were going to fight our way out of there and fuck anyone who tried to stop us.

 

            “But when the time came to act, I just couldn’t. I froze. Some friend I turned out to be. Potter would never have frozen. If it had been the other way around, Potter would’ve saved my arse. He wouldn’t have been afraid of risking his life.

 

            “He wouldn’t want me to chicken out now. He’d want me to tell the AUSAs everything.”

 

            “Malfoy,” Harry couldn’t believe his ears. He’d harbored the pain of Malfoy’s betrayal since the night his life had been turned upside down. Now to hear Malfoy’s genuine remorse, to see it written all over his face as his longtime friend resolved to do something truly suicidal… Harry took a deep breath as he made his decision.

 

            “Malfoy, you didn’t kill Potter,” Harry dropped his hood, letting his old friend get a good look at his messy black hair. “I’m right here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Assistant United States Attorney Patil frowned down at her notes. She looked up and addressed the informant.

 

            “That’s it? You’re offering to testify against Lockhart, Zambini, Yaxley and Dursley, but you won’t give us anything on Snape?”

 

            “My client has told you what he knows,” Ginny intervened. She didn’t believe that was strictly true, but she did believe Malfoy had said all that he was willing to say. She rather wanted to ask Patil and Hopkirk to leave the room so she could speak privately to Malfoy, but she sensed it wouldn’t do any good. She eyed the vigilante and the blogger sitting off in a corner of the room with suspicion. She hated being left out of the loop.

 

            “And you can’t tell us anything about Chess?” Hopkirk asked Malfoy. Once again, his lawyer answered for him.

 

            “He’s not here to offer you evidence against a dead man,” Ginny’s voice was like ice, “and I’ll thank you to leave my late husband out of this.”

 

            The Cape suppressed a wince. Did Ginny really believe he’d been Chess? Surely not; he’d have to talk with her sometime… But he didn’t know when he’d have the chance. Malfoy had appeared to be his best shot at clearing his name and yet he’d persuaded the former chief of police to keep Snape’s secrets as well as his. Malfoy might be the one going to prison, but right now Harry didn’t feel too free, either. He pulled his hood lower over his face, wondering how long he’d have to remain a fugitive.

 

            “I’ll have to call my boss,” Patil said, at last when Malfoy didn’t contradict Ginny.

 

            “Not from here!” Harry interjected. “Every cell phone acts as a tracking device!”

 

            “Yeah, yeah, Julia warned me earlier,” Patil replied, narrowing her eyes at the vigilante. He and Julia had been very vague about who would track them down. “Maybe _you_ should be the one turning confidential informant. You obviously know more than he’s telling us.”

 

            “I wish it were as simple as you make it sound,” the hero replied.

 

            “Shall we discuss guidelines?” Ginny asked, referring to the federal sentencing guidelines that the judge would take into consideration when deciding Malfoy’s fate.

 

            “We can if you like,” Patil answered, “though you know as well as I do that the judge will have to do her own calculation of the applicable guidelines.”

 

            “Right,” she did know that; she was licensed in the Southern District of Franklin, even though she’d only had state cases lately. “I meant shall we discuss what charges Malfoy will be pleading guilty to?”

 

            “Does it matter?” Malfoy scoffed, before Ginny could shush him. “I’m going to be in a cage for a long time to come, aren’t I?”

 

            “Malfoy,” Ginny gritted her teeth. “Do me a favor, shut up, and let me do my job.”

 

 

* * *

 

            After the proffer session, Patil and Hopkirk had left Hagrid’s to go and call the U.S. Attorney to sign off on the proposed plea bargain. They’d returned early in the morning with the agreement for Malfoy to sign, and a number of very big, very armed F.B.I. agents, but not before the agents had arrested Gilderoy Lockhart.

 

            A message was swiftly sent, courtesy of Orwell Is Watching, to ARK, letting Snape know that federal agents were on their way with Malfoy out of Palm City. Attached was the rundown of who Malfoy was to testify against and, by extension, who he wasn’t. Snape quickly dismissed the idea of warning his men that they were being targeted. They and Lockhart were expendable, just as Malfoy had been.

 

            Malfoy wouldn’t be sentenced for a few months, yet, but he’d be doing some serious time in federal prison, that was clear. If Orwell was to be believed, Draco had no intention of testifying against him. Very well, Snape could live with that, or, to be more accurate, he could allow Malfoy to live.

 

* * *

 

            “Can I interest you in some snake wine?” Moody offered Potter. The feds had gotten Malfoy and his family safely out of Palm City. Snape had seemed content, at his latest press conference, to rail against Goldilocks and this new threat that the public had just been made aware of—the Cape.

 

            “Snake wine?” Harry repeated, staring at Moody. He shook his head vigorously. “No, thanks. Don’t you have something a little more normal, like, I don’t know, whiskey?”

 

            “If that’s what you’d prefer,” Moody obligingly poured Harry the requested drink, “though an old friend of mine said snake wine was sure to make the drinker immortal.”

 

            “I see. And did this friend of yours survive an explosion, an attempted drowning, being poisoned, falling out of a penthouse window, or having two world-renown assassins sent after him?”

 

            “Got me there,” Moody conceded. “What shall we drink to?” he asked, holding up his flask.

 

            “I don’t know. I suppose to Malfoy—for not turning out to be such a bastard after all.”

 

            “And to the Cape,” Moody added, “for being something different, maybe exactly what this city needs.”

 

            “Cheers,” Harry raised his shot glass.

 

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Loose ends, right? But I refer you to whatever other Cape fics you’d care to look at. 
> 
> Chapter title, since I couldn’t remember the names of the final segments of the episode anyway, is from the La Roux song, “Bulletproof.”
> 
> Chapter not beta’d. Quibble away.


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